


The Price Of Falling

by Soapbubblesoul



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, MAMA AU, Mental Instability, exoments fic fest, longfic, side!xiuhan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 08:49:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 44,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4515537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soapbubblesoul/pseuds/Soapbubblesoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mama!AU Yixing has never really been shown the limits of his healing, but this is it, this is a case where he can’t simply snap his fingers and turn things okay. He only realizes what that truly means when it’s too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price Of Falling

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the exoments fic fest. I never expected this story to get as long as it did (45k fml) but somehow the plot ran away with me. I'm eternally grateful to everyone who supported me through the craziness that was this story's creation process, encouraging me, listening to me whine and special thanks to Line for helping me with a lot of the initial plotting and getting this thing together, and my beta, my doiood, without whom this story (and I) would most likely have been a mess before the eventual submission (sorry that "No airport, tears" didn't make the final cut).  
> I hope you'll be able to enjoy this story!
> 
> WARNINGS: (very brief) gorey descriptions, suicidal thoughts, explicit sexual acts

The smell of the hospital is familiar, enveloping him like an old friend as soon as he steps through the entrance doors, intensifying when they slide closed behind him automatically.

It’s a strong, overpowering scent of antiseptic, nearly drowning out all the weaker fragrances, but Yixing can still catch the underlying notes; the slightly sweet smell of sickness, the hint of coffee wafting from the break room, the faint, very faint, metallic tang of blood. Altogether it really isn’t a pleasant smell, even if one is only assaulted by the disinfectant, and the mixture Yixing detects certainly doesn’t make it better.

However, this smell is inherently linked to his work, and Yixing loves it for that. He doesn’t do anything stupid or sentimental like inhaling deeply to welcome a new day of work; his pace doesn’t quicken, and his already present smile doesn’t deepen. It’s a lot more subtle than that; a slight tensing of his muscles, a slight sharpening of his mind, thoughts already straying towards his patients.

He quickly makes his way towards the staff room. They do have an uniform at the hospital, plain shirts with a small geometric figure of cubes wound into each other—their hospital’s logo—embroidered onto the front and plain, dark pants, but since the whole atmosphere of the hospital is rather informal, all staff members are free to wear their own casual clothes to work if they prefer to. Thus the only thing left to do for Yixing is to shrug out of his jacket, take his lab coat from his locker and pull it on before he’s ready to head to his patients. It’s a well-known ritual to him how he gets ready to greet the day.

The hospital is located in a rural area, only a few houses scattered around its grounds, mostly surrounded by green fields. It’s a nice place to recover at. Though calling it a “hospital” is probably an exaggeration to begin with. The building is small, two floors, and they only have rooms for about twenty-five permanent residents, and that is if they’re cramming them together. It’s the only clinic in the radius of a few miles, and so they make do with what they have, patients and doctors alike. And in a way it's really all Yixing could ever wish for. Their days tend to be really busy, but Yixing can use his powers as a healer to help people in need, and he can't think of anything else he would want to do.

“Morning.” Junmyeon greets Yixing when the younger passes by him, a black clipboard pressed to his chest.

Junmyeon is barely more than a few years older than Yixing himself, but sometimes the brunette feels as if he catches a hint of something in the elder’s eyes that shouldn’t be there yet at his age. A hint of maturity and a suppressed burden that usually only comes to people over the years. It can’t be helped though, Yixing reasons. It’s probably a taxing task to be the owner of a hospital and the leading senior physician at such a young age. But most of the time Junmyeon manages to gloss over the burden with a juvenile smile, one or two jokes of really questionable quality, or a few encouraging words to the other staff members.

“There is one patient waiting in room 204 for you already. Seems like they’ve only sprained their ankle, but you should probably take a closer look at it,” Junmyeon explains, flipping through the papers on his clipboard, before lifting his gaze to Yixing. “There are a few other people already in line as well, so it seems like it might become a busy day for you. Don’t forget that fifteen is your limit,” he adds sternly, fixing Yixing with an uncharacteristically serious gaze. If there is one thing Junmyeon might care about even more than about his patients, it is about his staff members looking out for their own health as much as they are looking out for the health of their patients.

Yixing flashes his boss a smile that’s meant to be reassuring, already walking backwards slowly and moving further down the hallway. “I know, I know.”

“Don’t think I won’t throw you out and ban you from work for a few days if you exhaust your body too much by healing too many people!” Junmyeon threatens, but there isn’t really much force behind the words.

Yixing is reasonably sure his boss wouldn’t follow through on his threat either way, since he couldn’t stand seeing people suffer just because Yixing is not at work. The younger prefers to not take any risks though, so he calls back, “Don’t worry, I know the rules.”

The last thing he sees before turning around the corner at the end of the hallway is how Junmyeon shakes his head slightly, and he can almost hear the sigh the elder is heaving at how insolent his employees are.

Yixing walks into room 204 as instructed, greeting his patient with a wide smile on his lips.

 

\---

 

The day starts exactly the same way his days always start, so Yixing doesn’t expect it to go any different as well. He has been working in the hospital for so long he can barely imagine a time where he hasn’t been in this building day in and day out, even though technically it hasn’t even been five years yet.

Days tend to always pass in a similar manner. Yixing is the only person gifted with healing powers within an estimated 200 miles radius, or at least the only one who’s known for his powers publicly, so even if the surrounding area isn’t populated by that many people, Yixing is constantly kept busy. If the locals weren’t in need of his help, there were always citizens from nearby villages or cities coming to the hospital, traveling just to get treated by Yixing.

Nonetheless, it’s unusual for there to be any sort of rush in the hospital. They are too far away from most houses for people to rush to them with emergencies, so it confuses Yixing a little to hear the commotion. His first thought is that some patient must have put the volume of their television set too high, and that the noises come from some sort of soap opera scene, blaring too loudly from the speakers. But then the sound of rapid steps approaches him, and Minseok skids to a halt in the doorway, looking stressed and out of breath—a stark difference to the air of composure the nurse usually carries himself with.

“You need to come immediately,” the elder gasps out between labored breaths, and the urgency of his whole demeanour makes Yixing drop what he is doing without second thought. They run down the hallways quicker than Yixing remembers running, ever since he tried to beat the unforgiving stopwatch of his PE teachers back in high school. He should probably be asking what happened, or why they are rushing like this. A million possibilities run through his mind, but the distance is too short for the words to form. Minseok stops in front of one of their normally unused emergency rooms and turns to gesture Yixing inside. The younger doesn’t even halt to gain his composure, too infected by the urgency of the other.

He leaps into the room, only to be rooted to the spot. A part of his brain wonders how he didn’t already notice anything on the way, smelled the strong scent or saw the shocked expressions of the people standing in the hallway right outside the door. He wonders why even now he doesn’t smell or hear anything; it’s like all his senses are flooded with too much input for anything to make it through to his consciousness. For the fraction of a moment, Yixing is too overwhelmed by the unfamiliarity of the onslaught of impressions— _horrible impressions_ —to catch up, and the healer finds himself caught in a heartbeat of hesitation.

Then he breaks through the haze with a gasp, and suddenly he hears all the agitated voices, the pained moaning; he smells the stench of burned flesh and the overwhelming metallic tang of blood. In any other situation Yixing might have felt like throwing up, but the horror at seeing the horribly disfigured person on the stretcher in front of him doesn’t even give nausea the chance to manifest or paralyze him. Instead his brain immediately kicks into overdrive, and suddenly time seems to move slower as Yixing rushes forward, shouting orders to make way for him.

When he is at the body’s side he notices blistered and black skin, but it’s difficult to tell at which parts the cause of discoloration is burned flesh, and where it’s simply dirt that’s tainted the colour; he takes in the abrasions and limbs twisted at unnatural angles. The person on the stretcher takes a shuddering breath and Yixing wonders how the man is still conscious with his body in such a horrible state.

But he doesn’t question anything, doesn’t ask what could have left the other in such a wrecked state; he doesn’t ask where he is coming from or who he is to begin with. Instead he takes a deep breath—skillfully ignoring the stench that burns in his nose—and summons as much power as he can from within himself. With his hands outstretched over the closest part of the disfigured man that he can reach, he pushes the energy out of his own body and wills it into the other’s.

For a moment they both seem to hold their breath; then the man’s head whips around to face Yixing. It seems almost impossible for him to still be attentive enough to be able to take note of Yixing’s existence at all, but for some reason he still manages to fix his gaze on the brunette. Yixing sees his stormy grey eyes widening into something akin to panic. It’s the only warning he gets, before the muffled groans and moans turn into outright screams. The man begins to struggle, but Yixing stops the nurses from rushing to hold the man down with a command bitten out between clenched teeth. Instead he guides the energy from his fingertips through the muscles beneath his hands, forcing them to relax, effectively rendering his patient motionless.

It doesn’t stop the screams though, and after what feels like an eternity but probably isn’t more than two minutes, the pained noises stop. Mending tissues back together, forcing cells to regenerate, muscles to reconnect and bones to grow back together, is a process that comes with a lot of pain, and Yixing can perfectly understand why the man fell unconscious.

Nothing in life comes without a price—Yixing had reasoned this a long time ago. It is nothing but a curious theory of his, trying to understand a little how his powers work. He has always imagined it as some sort of deal with the universe; he can give a bit of his own power, his own energy to help others heal faster. Still, it also meant that they’d have to experience the pain of the whole healing process, all within a few moments instead of drawn out over weeks or months. His theory is still lacking, and most likely it’s not the truth either way, but at least it is a semblance of an explanation to him concerning powers that are otherwise unexplainable.

It isn’t as if he is alone, as if he is the only one with special powers. There are others like him, other wielders, but there are powers that are more common, like those linked to controlling elements. Then there are powers that are rarer, like his healing, so it has been mostly up to him to come up with answers to questions his books don’t know any answers to. Only a few general things are commonly known; every wielder has a distinctly shaped birthmark, like some kind of emblem. It is the source of a wielder’s power, and wielder of the same kind of power bear the same birthmark, though the place where it is located varies for each individual.

Yixing’s mark is located on the inner side of his right upper arm, close to his elbow, displaying the stylized head of a unicorn. It is the shape every healer carries. Whenever he uses his powers, he can feel his birthmark resonate. Not painfully, not even as a dull throbbing, or a source of subtle heat. Rather it makes him be acutely aware of the mark, like a focus point for controlling his powers, or rather as if it forcefully pulls Yixing’s attention towards it.

As long as the body beneath his fingertips isn’t fully healed yet, the mark won’t be satisfied. It’s the combination of this _itch_ and Yixing’s unwillingness to let any patient remain with any type of pain that make healing be like an addiction for him, something he can’t just stop once he started. Then again, perhaps it’s more parts his stubbornness than the pull of the birthmark that makes him turn a blind eye to his own limits.

Uncaring of the reasons, Yixing keeps pushing his energy into the body of his patient—he doesn’t know the man, doesn’t know his name, but from the moment that Yixing stepped into the room, this man turned into his patient—even long after the other has fallen unconscious. Yixing loses all track of time; he doesn’t hear or see anything else. In his world there is only him, the man on the stretcher, and the flow of energy between them.

And yet it seems like there’s always more tissue to be healed, more bones to be mended. He started from the deepest layer he could reach and tried to work his way out, but it feels as if he’s running on a treadmill—running and running, but the view around him doesn’t change. Still, he single-mindedly keeps going, grimly determined to reach the fleeting finishing line, even if every time he thinks he’s getting close, it moves the slightest bit further away.

But he’s stubborn, _so very stubborn_.

He has blocked out all noises around him, so at first it doesn’t register when he hears his name being called. It’s just another distraction that keeps him from reaching his goal, so his brain automatically filters the sound out. It’s only when he feels a hand on his shoulder that he notices that someone seems to be trying to get his attention, but he can’t have that. Instead of turning or acknowledging the calls, he shrugs the hand off as a sign that whoever is bothering him should leave him alone while he’s working.

However the person is insistent, the hand returning to his shoulder no matter how many times Yixing shrugs it off. At one point it grips him tightly, shaking him. The motion is annoying, and it breaks through Yixing’s concentration—it would have made him angry if he hadn’t been so focused on his healing. The voice sounds agitated by now as well, even bordering on angry with its shouts.

Then, all of a sudden—though he should have seen it coming, with how the intensity of the gestures meant to get his attention had increased bit by bit—there are arms wound around his middle. Yixing struggles, tries to fight the person who is holding him tight and dragging him away from his patient, but it’s useless. He flails, reaches his arms out in a futile attempt to hold onto something, anything, while at the same time emitting agitated grunts and shouts for the other to let him go, that he has to get back inside to continue his healing.

When he’s dragged through the door frame and out into the hallway he sees nurses immediately rush into the room to take care of the unconscious male he left behind on the stretcher. Yixing thinks he even sees a doctor enter, but he doesn’t particularly care. All he cares about is to break out of the hold of the person he has identified as Junmyeon by now, so that he can resume his task, but Junmyeon is unrelenting. He holds Yixing in a tighter grip than the younger would ever have expected his boss to be capable of. “Come back to your senses, Yixing! You’ve already passed your limit!” the elder shouts, turning Yixing in his hold so he can look him in the face. “It won’t help anyone if you kill yourself while trying to save him!”

Junmyeon shakes him by the shoulders, as if to wake him from sleep. “You’ve already done enough for his life to no longer be in danger. You can’t heal him completely in one sitting, your powers are not strong enough for that! Goddamn it Yixing, learn your limits already!”

It registers with Yixing how odd the words are, coming from Junmyeon. After all, it’s usually the elder who forgets to look after himself with how much he’s looking after others. But it’s that thought that breaks him from his trance, and suddenly Yixing notices how his hands are shaking, and it doesn’t take more than that for his body to suddenly give in.

He gasps as his knees suddenly give way, and he crumbles to the ground as if all of his power has been drained within a second. Junmyeon lets out a surprised grunt as he tries to catch the younger, but the unexpected weight of Yixing is too much for him and they stumble to the ground together.

Junmyeon manages to soften Yixing’s fall, so that he only sacks onto his knees, not collapsing head first, arms still caught in Junmyeon’s hands. A shiver wracks through Yixing’s body. His perception feels strangely dull, as if the signals from all senses of his have to pass through a layer of cotton first before reaching his brain. He does however feel one of Junmyeon’s hands cradle his jawline, thumb soothing over his cheek while the other grips his shoulder to keep him upright, the touch comforting. There are black spots dancing through his vision, and Yixing wonders briefly whether he’s about to pass out.

Counting his breathes carefully, Yixing tries to calm his racing heart, at the same time keeping the sickness of his stomach at bay _and_ listening to Junmyeon’s soothing words. It proves to be a difficult task, so he closes his eyes to focus better.

 _Twenty_ … _twenty one_ … _twenty two_ …

He makes it up to thirty. Then there is a touch to his shoulder that can’t come from Junmyeon, because the elder’s hands haven’t moved from where they’re brushing Yixing’s cheek calmingly and holding him up by his shoulder. Cracking his eyes open, Yixing has to blink a few times before his field of vision finally swims back into focus. He notices that the black spots are gone, and that he’s no longer shivering, but a bone deep weariness has settled into his body in its stead.

When he lifts his head he’s greeted with the sight of soft, honey coloured hair and wonderfully warm, brown eyes, looking worried in a face that is bunched up in a slight frown. Recognition immediately flashes through Yixing, but when he tries to mouth the name that jumps onto his lips, only a gust of air comes out, no real sounds.

He knows Luhan. They used to meet up, perhaps they could even have been called friends, before Yixing got too busy at the hospital to do anything but work or sleep. Sometimes he misses just lying out in the grass with Luhan at his side, studying the clouds, or sitting together over a cup of tea in their village’s tea house or at a café in the nearby city. But Luhan still smiles at him with friendliness, still invites him out with seemingly endless patience for how often Yixing declines the offer, so Yixing reasons he’s okay with the way things are at the moment.

When Luhan notices that Yixing’s eyes have focused on him, his lips stretch into a tentative smile. “Hello, Yixing,” he greets, and it is such a bizarre thing to say in a situation like this, that Yixing feels like chuckling, but only manages a weak smile.

“Hey, Luhan,” he whispers, and this time his vocal chords actually cooperate with him.

He hears Junmyeon heave a sigh of relief. “Thank god you’re back to your senses.” A flicker of confliction darts over his expression. Most likely he’s debating whether to chide Yixing right there and then, but he decides against it, instead flashing a small smile at Yixing that’s supposed to be reassuring. “How do you feel?”

“I’m okay,” he croaks out, the weakness in his voice belying his words instantly.

If the way Junmyeon’s eyebrows knit together is any indication, the other isn’t believing him in the least bit. Trying to prove his point, Yixing makes as if to get up, but he doesn’t stand a chance against his boss’ tight grip.

“Don’t strain yourself. You’re off from work for the rest of the day. You’re lucky Luhan stayed around because he wanted to to know whether the patient would be fine.”

Yixing turns his head look at the Luhan in surprise. “You…?” he starts, but lets his voice trail off when he realizes that the words to voice his question won’t form a proper sentence in his mind.

However the other seems to understand him nonetheless and nods. “Yes, I found him out in the fields, when I was passing by coincidentally, so I took him here as quick as I could.”

 _That’s good_ , Yixing wants to say. _Without your telekinesis it probably wouldn’t have been possible to get him to the hospital in time_. But Junmyeon speaks before Yixing can muster the strength to, interrupting his and Luhan’s conversation. “That’s not important now though. The main thing is, since Luhan’s here, he can take you home, Yixing. You need sleep now, more than anything else. Sleep for as long as you have to. If you feel the slightest hint of exhaustion remaining after you wake up, stay at home tomorrow. Do you understand me?”

The last sentence is voiced with a stern emphasis, a slight frown on Junymeon’s face, and it’s a sign of how exhausted Yixing is that he easily let’s go of his protests and simply nods with a sigh.

There are a few quick, hushed words exchanged between Luhan and the hospital’s CEO which Yixing’s tired mind can’t quite catch, then the honey-haired male bends down to Yixing’s eye level again, flashing him a bright smile.

“Okay Yixing, we better get going. I’ll take you home,” he announces brightly, as if the worry in his face just a few minutes prior was just an illusion. “Can you stand up?”

Yixing nods without even knowing if he actually is capable of standing with his muscles feeling like jelly. It takes a lot of effort to get his legs to cooperate, and Junmyeon’s helping hands half stabilizing him, half pulling him up. However Yixing does makes it to his feet, although his footing is everything but steady.

It only takes Luhan one glance at how he sways to crouch down, back facing Yixing. “Get on, I’ll carry you.”

The younger hesitates—he hasn’t gotten a piggyback ride since he was twelve, but then he thinks about the distance from the hospital to his flat, and swallows his pride. As soon as he’s settled, Luhan gets up, lifting one hand in a parting gesture. Junmyeon sees them off with wishes for Yixing to rest well and a smile that doesn’t quite manage to conceal his inner turmoil.

The air outside of the hospital is a welcome change with its freshness, and Yixing deeply inhales the scents of early spring. It’s still cool, the weather only just starting to warm up; Spring is coming late this year. Luhan talks to Yixing throughout their journey back to Yixing’s home, seemingly never running out of topics to talk about even when Yixing can hardly muster more than an affirmative hum or a few weak one-sentence answers here and there. It’s nice, he concludes and even in his exhausted state he can appreciate the sound of Luhan’s smooth voice.

“Oh, and Minseok has a new coffee machine. We talked about getting it for a long time, because it’s rather on the expensive side, but let's face it, there was no way I could deny him. And well, his birthday was right around the corner either way.” Luhan turns his head to look at Yixing with expectant eyes. “He makes even better coffee now. You should come over some time to try it.”

There it is again, one of Luhan’s endless invitations. Amazed by the elder’s unrelenting perseverance, he finds himself nodding slightly. “I’d like to.”

His voice is barely more than a whisper, but Luhan still smiles at him brightly in response, turning to face the front again as they continue making their way down the winding path that leads to the building Yixing’s flat is located in. Once they reach it, Luhan accompanies Yixing inside, ignoring all protests of the younger that he’ll be able to manage. It earns him a skeptically raised eyebrow as Yixing attempts to take a step by himself after Luhan has put him down.

The attempt is quickly put to an halt when he loses his balance, almost wiping the bowl he uses for his keys and the little unicorn figurine his mother had gotten him when he moved out for college from the cupboard in his hallway with flailing arms. However he doesn’t fall because Luhan is quick in catching him with his powers, setting the younger back upright before moving to support him.

When Luhan helps him into bed, Yixing is overcome by a wave of gratefulness. He doesn’t deserve to be cared for like this with how often he declines Luhan’s invitations. The honey-haired male immediately waves off his gratitude when he voices it, claiming that it’s no problem at all. Once Luhan is convinced that Yixing is all settled in, he takes his leave, but not before writing down his cellphone number on a piece of paper and placing it on Yixing’s bedside table.

“I bet you’ve already lost my number,” the elder explains with a grin. “If anything’s up, just give me a call and I’ll be right over.”

“Thank you for your help, Luhan,” Yixing replies, eyelids already drooping. It is getting harder to stay awake with every passing second, and Luhan must notice because he moves to draw the curtains closed before heading towards the door frame.

“Sleep well, Yixing,” he says in farewell, then he is gone, silently shutting the door to Yixing’s bedroom behind him.

The brunette hears the elder’s footsteps receding in the hallway, then the sound of his front door being pulled closed, followed by silence. The only noise he hears is the soft ticking of the clock on his bedside table. It’s a weird contrast to Luhan’s buzzing happy presence just a few minutes ago. The absence of anything to occupy his mind makes Yixing realize that he hasn’t been forced to reflect his own situation yet, how close he probably had been to passing the point of no return back there in the hospital. Most likely it should scare him how his powers left him helpless and essentially powerless now, but he’s too exhausted to dwell on the thought.

It strikes him as odd that it’s still broad daylight outside and he’s lying in his bed already, but even without the curtains blocking out the sun it would probably not have taken more than a few seconds to have him fall sound asleep.

 

\---

 

Yixing is back at the hospital two days later.

The previous day he woke up to the setting sun, but when he looked at his phone he discovered that it wasn’t the evening of the same day that Luhan had brought him home, but rather the day after. He was half in wonderment and half in shock when had he realized that he had slept for more than 26 hours; he couldn’t recall ever having slept even half that long. It was a definite sign of what toll the healing had taken on his own body when he still managed to fall back asleep that evening, and slept until the shrill sound of his alarm clock cut through his sleep.

Yixing already texted Junmyeon the day prior, reassuring him that he was fine after sleeping the exhaustion off, and that he would come to work as planned the next day. So really, he expects it when Junmyeon is by his side mere seconds after he has entered the building. Sometimes Yixing wonders how the older manages to always know what is happening at any given place in his hospital, but he chooses not to delve deeper into the topic.

“How are you feeling?” is Junmyeon’s first tentative question as he falls into step beside Yixing, the younger heading for the staff room as per usual.

“Fine.” He flashes a smile, complete with dimple, and it seems to put the other a bit more at ease. “All I needed was a little sleep.”

Junmyeon hums a little, though it’s not clear whether to signal that he’s listening even while he’s looking over the documents he has in his hands or whether to express his agreement. Yixing is just about to open his mouth to continue with harmless small talk when Junmyeon turns around and grabs his arm, effectively stopping him mid stride. The elder’s eyes are intent as he fixes Yixing in place with a stern gaze.

“I hope you understood how dangerous the situation was for you.” It’s weird how even though Junmyeon is smaller than Yixing, it feels like the elder is towering over him at this moment. “I don’t even want to imagine how things might have ended if you hadn’t been stopped. Let this be a lesson—every power has its limits, and yours can very well kill you if you’re not careful. Do you understand me?”

Yixing nods meekly, feeling like a child being scolded by its parents. If he’s being honest, that somehow is what Junmyeon is to him and to pretty much all of the hospital’s employees. A friend, for sure, but a parental one at that.

“I don’t want anything like that to happen again or I’ll make sure you’re no longer allowed to treat patients on your own.”

There is a protest at the tip of Yixing’s tongue, that he is a fully grown adult who can perfectly judge situations himself, but he swallows the sentences. He has only just proven that he is not as reliable when it comes to these matters as he might claim to be, so the only choice he has left is to accept Junmyeon’s words head-on.

At seeing Yixing agree so readily, Junmyeon lets out a breath that almost sounds like a relieved sigh, lowering the hands that had been holding Yixing at his shoulders. “Okay. I just wanted to make that clear.” Junmyeon almost sounds apologetic as he starts to walk again. “I’m glad to hear that you’re recovered now.”

This time it’s Yixing’s turn to hum, and when Junmyeon flashes him a smile, he knows that the situation is sorted. For now. “So, how is he doing?” Yixing asks, falling back into business mode.

“He’s alive, thanks to you.” The statement makes a shiver run down Yixing’s spine because in the single-mindedness of his healing he hadn’t taken the time to consider how serious the man’s injuries had actually been. “He’s been assigned room 125, and he’s holding up well as far as we can tell. He doesn’t talk much, just sleeps a lot, as is to be expected I guess. I’ve postponed all your appointments for the next few days. He will need all your attention from the looks of it.”

 

\---

 

When Yixing walks into room 125 it is as if he sees Wu Yifan for the first time. _Consciously_ sees him for the first time that is, and not just as a charred, broken body that he has to patch up. When he’s healing, he tends to have a tunnel view, unable to see left and right from his focus. He does, however, remember the other’s eyes. For some reason that gaze he had fixed Yixing with when the brunette healed him is one of the few impressions still clear in his mind from that day, a sharp memory amidst a sea of fuzziness regarding the other events.

Yifan is bandaged up, the white material covering a big part of his arms and half of his head. A few pink patches spread across the skin that is visible, but they truly are no comparison to the angry red, blistered skin Yixing recalls from the other day. He’s connected to an IV, and a few other machines Yixing has never seen being used before during the time he has been working at the hospital so far. All in all Yifan still looks battered, but he also looks infinitely better than Yixing remembers him looking on the day of his admission.

“Hello Mr. Wu,” he greets with a gentle smile playing on his lips.

Yifan recoils slightly when he sees Yixing approach, a flicker of recognition running through his slightly widened grey eyes telling the healer that Yifan still remembers him as well, from when their eyes had locked a second before he started screaming. The reaction is understandable, probably downright instinctual as the sight of Yixing must be linked to pain for the other. It has Yixing halting his steps automatically, hands raised in order to showcase harmlessness. “It’s okay, I’m the healer,” he explains, turning his right arm so that Yifan can see his birthmark, the unicorn shape supporting his words. “I want to help you.”

“I know.” With a slow exhale the other male relaxes back into his half-sitting position on the bed. The action looks weirdly forced, as if it takes a lot of effort for him to ease the tension from his body. “I’m sorry.”

“No no, it’s okay, no need to apologize.” Yixing waves off Yifan’s concern. “I guess our first meeting was a little ill-fated. Let’s start over. Hello, I’m Zhang Yixing.” He bows a little, holding the medical file that Junmyeon handed him that contains not only the details of Yifan’s injuries but also a copy of the other’s ID—slightly charred around the edges but still surprisingly readable—to his chest. “There’s no need for titles though, no Healer Zhang, no Dr. Zhang. Please simply call me Yixing.”

“Yifan,” the male responds, but despite the curt statement he doesn’t sound unfriendly. There rather is an edge of exhaustion to his demeanour.

“It’s nice to meet you, Yifan. I would like to continue the healing. Is that okay?”

The other hesitates for the blink of an eye before he gives a small nod, eyes turning away from the healer to study the white blanket covering his legs instead. Taking it as a sign of consent, Yixing moves in to get started on his healing.

Up this close he notices that the short strands of hair looking out from the bandages around Yifan’s head barely contrast the fabric, their blond colour so light they almost seem white. It’s an unusual shade, to say the least, but Yixing doesn’t dwell on the matter. Instead he takes a deep breath, properly collecting himself, in contrast to the last time where he healed Yifan in a rush. His healing works better if he summons the power from within himself before pushing it out, letting it concentrate in his hands.

“I’m afraid this is going to hurt again. If it gets too bad, please tell me.” Yixing cautions when he places his hands over Yifan’s chest. The blond looks wary, but doesn’t object.

Yixing starts slow, his power tentatively probing Yifan’s body, slowly forcing it to regenerate itself. The places Yixing reaches still feel like a mess, and he can already notice the low prodding of his birthmark, but he’s prepared for what he finds this time.

Yifan lets out a pained gasp, his face screwing up in a frown, but no other noises escape him. The younger has half the mind to be impressed, but he’s too concentrated on working his healing to properly notice Yifan’s forceful, controlled breathing, or the way his fingers clench into the sheets. He only notices what a task it must have been for the other when he resurfaces from his concentration, drawing his hands back a bit jerkily, as if he’d been held in place by some invisible force, and sees the cold sweat covering Yifan’s forehead.

The moment he lifts his hands from the other male’s chest, Yifan exhales deeply in relief, as if he had been holding his breath. Guilt shoots through Yixing at the sight of how tightly Yifan has his eyes clenched together in pain, only slowly starting to relax. _Perhaps I have overdone it a bit_ , he wonders, and when he takes a step back, only to notice that his legs are slightly swaying, he reasons that perhaps he should indeed have taken it a bit slower.

When he studies the other male, he doesn’t immediately see any improvements. The pink remains of the burns are perhaps the slightest bit lighter or smaller, but they are still very much present. Then again he focused on internal damage, and the injuries that are more severe. He knows for a fact that the leg of Yifan's that was broken is healed again, and that the big burn on Yifan’s shoulder that was bandaged up by the nurses has faded to a pale pink as well.

“I’m sorry if that was too painful,” the healer eventually speaks up, after Yifan seems to have collected himself, if his evened out breathing is anything to go by. “How do you feel now?”

The blond cracks open his eyes and blinks a few times, as if he is only just waking up from sleep and needs a moment to orient himself. Then he looks down at his arm, lifting it slightly to test the motion, before arriving at a verdict. “Better,” he notes, and the hint of awe in his voice makes Yixing wonder if the other has ever come into contact with a healer before. “I think,” he adds when he faces Yixing again.

The addition sounds weird to Yixing’s ears for the hesitation he hears in it, as if Yifan has a reason to doubt his own statement, but he doesn’t dwell on it.

 

\---

 

He doesn’t find out what the reason for Yifan’s hesitation is until three days later. That’s how long it takes him to completely heal Yifan’s injuries. While it proves easy enough to mend the burns to a degree that makes them look harmless, it’s unexpectedly difficult to completely make them disappear, and it takes a lot of effort on both his and Yifan’s side.

More difficult than healing the blond's wounds though is to find out what caused them in the first place. While Yixing wouldn’t describe Yifan as necessarily closed off, there’s no denying that he is rather silent. Even when he usually answers Yixing’s questions, he adamantly refuses to talk about his injuries and how they came to be. Reasoning that it isn’t his place to prod, Yixing isn’t very persistent in trying to get answers from the taller.

Yixing has reasoned that the third day should be the last of their healing sessions. Yifan is completely bandage free at this point, but something is off about him when Yixing walks into the room. Yifan’s posture is more hunched than usual, shoulders slightly tensed. He looks as if he’s expecting a blow, or as if he’s caught in the middle of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Yixing is left clueless however as to what the reason might be, so he chooses to approach the other the way he usually does. The differences in Yifan’s posture are minimal, really, but they still puzzle the healer. When asked about it, the elder just shakes his head, indicating that there’s nothing bothering him, and it’s the first time he doesn’t answer a question of Yixing’s that isn’t related to how he got his injuries.

Figuring that he can still try to get Yifan to talk when he’s done with healing, Yixing quickly switches from his mostly one-sided attempts at small talk to assuming his usual position besides the elder’s bed. It’s almost a routine by now, the way Yifan takes a deep, calming breath, closing his eyes in preparation before nodding for Yixing to start.

At first the healing works out exactly the way Yixing expected it too, the way it’s always worked out. Yifan’s body has recovered greatly in the last few days, leaving only a few superficial burns and a torn ligament in his shoulder.

These injuries are easy enough for Yixing to heal, and he’s almost about to retract, when something catches his attention. With all of Yifan’s injuries, something has constantly been off in Yifan’s body, his internal equilibrium, the way all parts of his body functioned together being disturbed. That should have changed the moment Yixing healed the last of his wounds, but strangely enough something still irks the brunette.

He himself has troubles explaining, or even understanding in the first place, how his power enables him to perceive someone else’s body. It’s a feeling of rightness versus wrongness much more than a view of muscles, bones and organs and their functions. When his power prods through his patients’ bodies it’s automatically drawn to the places that are off, that aren’t “whole”. By now Yixing is able to roughly translate the feelings into injuries, being able to estimate what sort of wound he just healed.

What he encounters in that moment though is different from anything he has come across so far, and his brain short circuits for a moment as it fails to come up with any explanation for the feeling. It’s not necessarily a physical injury—a broken bone, a torn ligament, a burn or anything similar; Yixing is sure he has healed all of these—but it doesn’t feel the way sicknesses feel either.

He remotely registers how his eyes widen first in surprise before narrowing in an expression of determination, intent on identifying and removing the source of the imbalance from Yifan’s system. All of his attempts at reaching the place where the uncomfortable feeling is coming from are futile however. Yixing feels like running against a wall, some kind of barrier keeping his powers from going through, and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t push past it.

On the contrary, the barrier downright seems to swallow all the power Yixing pours into it, sucking it out of the younger like a black hole. The sensation is so foreign that it startles Yixing into pulling back with a gasp. His hands are shaking when he looks down at them, but he doesn’t know whether it’s a sign of shock or that he has exhausted himself again. He doesn’t care either way because now he has to attend to Yifan and find out what’s wrong.

The other looks eerily motionless, eyes still closed. No noises had come from him during the healing, nothing more than a small hitching of his breath here and there.

Yifan looks better. He looks healed. All the bandages are gone by now, his skin an even colour, smooth looking texture. And yet Yifan looks as if he’s still in pain.

Yixing’s brain kicks into overdrive as a million thoughts and questions run together. What was that weird sensation? If all of Yifan’s physical injuries are healed and he isn’t sick, what part is missing from making him whole? What is he supposed to do now? Calmness is the most important thing now, he reasons. Even if his insides are in a turmoil of uncertainties, he can’t let that show in front of his patient. As a healer he must be the calming influence, a beacon of security.

 _How to tell Yifan_? He wonders, because he can’t simply go and tell the other “There’s something wrong with you and I don’t know what,” even if it’s the truth.

His musings are interrupted by a silent voice however. “Can you do something about it?”

Unnoticed by Yixing the blond has turned to face him, and Yifan’s voice sounds strangely defeated when he speaks, his words less like a question and more like a statement.

“Do something about what?” Yixing asks cautiously, studying Yifan with his head tilted slightly to the side. He is reasonably sure that he didn’t voice any of his thoughts out loud about why he suddenly withdrew from healing, but he can never be one hundred percent sure.

It’s then that Yifan’s eyes that had been staring at some point past Yixing’s shoulder move to lock gazes with the younger for the first time that day. There is a sense of understanding in those grey orbs and suddenly Yixing knows; he just _knows_ that Yifan is aware of what is wrong with himself, what throws his system out of kilter.

“My powers. Can you bring them back?”

Yixing needs a moment to comprehend the words. Powers? Bringing Yifan’s powers back? The concept sounds weird to the brunette, because powers are something you either have or you don’t have. But Yifan looks at him with a gaze that seems to say ‘You’re a healer after all. You can heal this as well, can’t you?’ and his expression is dead serious. _It would explain why the sensation was so unfamiliar_ , the logical part of his brain supplies, and it takes a bit for the rest of him to catch up to the meaning behind Yifan’s words.

The other is a power wielder, just like Yixing or Junmyeon or Luhan.

“What is your power?” Yixing finds himself asking, without even really meaning to.

“Flight.” Something tugs at Yifan’s mouth, but Yixing can’t tell whether it’s a smile or a frown, happiness or longing. “But I can’t even so much as lift myself a centimeter into the air right now.”

“May I have a look at your birthmark?” He asks, unconsciously motioning at his own arm to indicate what he’s talking about. Even though he has no idea how to approach the whole topic, he figures that the birthmark is a good point to start at.

Yifan simply nods and turns so that his back faces Yixing before pulling up his shirt until it’s hanging around his neck, all of his back uncovered. The sight makes Yixing gasp, and not because Yifan has a nice back—he does, broad shoulders, strong muscles beneath smooth skin—but rather because he sees the birthmark on Yifan’s left shoulder blade.

He has never seen one in reality because the power of flight is a rare one and pretty much everyone who possesses it ends up working for the military, but Yixing still knows that the birthmark should have the form of a dragon. What he finds on Yifan’s back might have once been a dragon, but if Yixing’s hadn’t known what to look for, he isn’t sure he would have recognized it. The dark lines of the birthmark are faded, and there are angry red streaks breaking through them, effectively distorting the shape.

These streaks are burn marks, looking very much as if someone had pressed a hot iron stick on the birthmark over and over again—however Yixing knows that something as ordinary as hot metal couldn’t have been the cause for these wounds. The faint lines of the birthmark have downright been broken apart, the red wilts running _through_ them, instead of running over them the way they are supposed to if the skin of the birthmark were to be affected.

Yixing is glad that the elder has his back turned to him and thus can’t see him. He knows that shock must be written all over his face, and that is not exactly the sort of expression he as a professional should wear around his patient.

With a tentative movement he reaches out to let his fingertips ghost over the birthmark. When he comes into contact with Yifan’s skin the other flinches, and Yixing immediately draws his hand back as if he had been burned, muttering apologies over and over again.

“It’s okay,” Yifan interrupts him, turning his neck slightly so he can look at Yixing. “The touch was just unexpected. Please go ahead.”

Yixing simply nods, and as soon as Yifan is facing the other way again he makes another attempt at examining the birthmark. This time his touch is firmer, more resolution than hesitation, and Yifan inhales sharply when Yixing runs his fingers over one of the burns but doesn’t complain.

The healer takes his time looking at the mark, letting small portions of his power escape from the tips of his fingers to test it out, but he comes up empty handed. The burns don’t seem to be normal burns that he can simply heal the way he healed all of Yifan’s other injuries, so he eventually has to admit defeat, drawing back with what he hopes is a mostly soundless sigh. Even if there is a way for him to heal the burns, he has already used up too much power that day to stand a chance, he reasons.

“You can put your shirt back on,” he instructs, and while the other does as he's been told Yixing wracks his brain how to best approach the matter now. “I must be honest with you, I’ve never seen anything like this before,” he confesses when Yifan is once again regarding him. As much as he dislikes seeing the flicker of disappointment in the other’s eyes he reasons that it’s the best to stick to the truth. “But I will do my best to look into the matter. There must be some way to fix this, and I’ll find it.”

As if to emphasize the statement Yixing flashes a smile that’s brighter than the degree of optimism he’s feeling right then. He can’t quite discern if Yifan can tell, but the blond nods in understanding either way.

 

\---

 

The first thing Yixing does after leaving Yifan’s room is to look for Junmyeon. While the other surely is more experienced in terms of medicine and where to find knowledge about difficult cases, the healer's main intention is to sort out the logistics surrounding Yifan’s situation.

Expecting that day to mark the end of his healing, Yixing already preemptively told his boss that they would be able to release Yifan by the next day. That is a statement he has to rectify now, because even if all of Yifan’s physical injuries have been healed—with the exception of the persistent burn marks on his birthmark—there still is no way Yixing can let him be discharged with a clear conscience.

They don’t often keep patients at the hospital for a longer time period, since so far Yixing has mostly been able to quickly help the patients with more severe injuries and those who weren’t mortally ill. Of course there always are a few exceptions, so it isn’t unheard of for patients to be admitted for weeks or even months at times, it’s just very uncommon.

It was obvious from the look in Yifan’s eyes when he had locked gazes with Yixing that whatever had happened to his birthmark has left it’s marks on Yifan, painful marks, and Yixing doesn’t let any of his patients go before they are fully healed. He wouldn’t dare calling himself a proper healer if he did.

Getting Junmyeon to agree to let Yifan stay, even if it might be for an indefinite time turns out to be no problem at all. On the contrary, the elder immediately starts thinking up way how they might be able to help the blond with feeling comfortable at the hospital, or where they might find knowledge on how to heal him.

Yixing ends up spending the rest of the afternoon in the library, on Junmyeon’s “advice”—really, order would have been the more fitting term—and he leafs through half a dozen books, but in the end he still comes up empty handed.

 _It’s only the first day_. He reasons when he goes home that day. _I still have a ton of possibilities to discover just the book I need, the one that contains the right information_.

 

\---

 

The next weeks Yixing falls into a rhythm of going to visit Yifan every morning, and then returning for a few hours in the afternoon as well, once he has finished treating all of his patients. Junmyeon has stopped complaining about it when Yixing works overtime. Yixing guesses that he agrees that talking to Yifan isn’t exactly such a tiring task.

But that doesn’t mean that all they do is talk.

In spite of his failures on the day he discovered the scorched birthmark, Yixing refuses to give up. The progress is minimal, but he can see the wounds getting continuously less pronounced on Yifan’s skin after a week of continuous healing, and after another week he swears that the colour has already changed to a brighter shade. Yifan, with no way to check the mark on his back himself, bases his own enthusiasm off of Yixing’s excited grins.

Nonetheless is it impossible for Yixing to use his powers all the time he spends with Yifan, so they _do_ talk quite a lot. Yifan doesn’t seem to have any relatives or friends to visit him, which is not much of a surprise considering that the hospital staff hasn’t had the chance to inform anyone of Yifan’s stay in the hospital. In the wallet from his backpocket, that had surprisingly survived whatever flames Yifan had been subjected to, there had been no emergency contacts listed, or any other means of contact in general. Yifan’s ID and a few money bills had been the only contents of the brown leather wallet.

Of course Yixing had asked Yifan who he should contact, but the only answer he had gotten was “There isn’t anyone,” and then the elder had turned away defiantly, visibly declaring the conversation to be over.

Yixing refuses to believe that there is no one, not a single soul that would like to know about Yifan’s remains, but he doesn’t have a chance to get information from the elder that Yifan isn’t willing to give. That’s why he reasons it’s only right for him to spend time with Yifan, just socializing, to prevent the other from getting too lonely. Yifan never outright voices it, but the way he starts greeting Yixing with a small smile after the first week is enough to tell him that the blond does appreciate the company.

They get along better than Yixing would have expected in the beginning. Yifan is a strange paradox of talkative and closed-off. There are topics that immediately make him shut-off any means of communication, his face pulling into a frown that downright looks scary, and if Yixing hadn’t known him better at that point, he might actually have been intimidated.

On the other hand it is easy for Yixing to talk with Yifan about anything that isn’t directly linked to any of these “off-limits” topics. He learns that the other was born in Guangzhou, but his parents had always been on the move when he was young. He learns that Yifan discovered his powers the day he turned ten, and that his mother gave him the scolding of his life after he accidentally broke their ceiling fan, but immediately after she hugged him tightly and congratulated him on his powers.

Yifan likes to play basketball and he loves to draw, even though he hasn’t had the chance to in years, as he claims. “I might be a bit rusty,” the elder says with an embarrassed laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. He looks downright sheepish, which is a strange feat for an over six foot giant with a face that seemed to be continuously pulled into a scowl.

“I bet you’re not! I’d love to see your drawings,” Yixing replies enthusiastically. They are sitting on a couch in one of the staff lounges, half-turned to face each other. Due to the rather small size of the hospital and thus limited staff number Yifan had quickly been integrated to feel more like a member of the staff than like a patient. All of the nurses and doctors call him by his name, and the same holds true for the reverse.

It was Yixing’s suggestion to move to a more comfortable location for their talks rather than staying in Yifan’s room, where the other would have to sit in his bed as if he was too sick to move and Yixing could only use one of the—not exactly comfortable—plastic chairs found in each hospital room.

“You know what? I will make sure to get you some drawing supplies. I should be able to get some pencils and a sketch block from somewhere,” Yixing suggests, grinning widely in excitement. Yifan really has no choice but to mirror the smile and accept the offer with a soft “Thank you.” He has by now come to accept that if Yixing has set his mind to something, there is no use in trying to fight it.

“Oh right, I found this book on the internet yesterday. It already is fairly old, but it might contain useful information about powers and how they’re connected to birthmarks. I was planning on checking whether they have a copy of it in our local library, and if they don’t I’ll have to go look at the library in the city.”

Just as it has become a habit to visit Yifan it has become a habit for Yixing to tell the other of what research he is doing, or what things he did in general to help Yifan’s condition. He isn’t exactly sure himself how many parts of his motivation are true ambition and how many are him feeling guilty that he hasn’t been able to help Yifan so far when he promised he would. Truly, it’s been weeks and Yixing hasn’t gotten any closer to the root of the problem. It feels as if any lead he has just disappears in a trail of smoke and a curt “To this day there is nothing concrete known about the source or workings of the wielders’ powers” written in whatever book he had set his latest hopes on.

He’s mid-way through an explanation of how he intends to approach the healing of Yifan’s birthmark when he suddenly feels Yifan’s hands on his lower arm. The touch startles him, and his eyes focus back on reality, finding Yifan looking at him intently. “Yixing.” He calmly says, as if he didn’t already have Yixing’s undivided attention. “It’s okay. You don’t have to prove to me that you’re working on finding a way to help me. I know that you are. There’s no need to report to me or anything.”

Right from the first day Yixing has been able to surmise that Yifan is a handsome person, but the less bandages he had to wear, the more his wounds were healed, the more obvious it became. Strong eyebrows, an angular face with piercing eyes and full lips. Even the unusual white-blond hair—that has grown back quicker than normal, most likely due to Yixing’s healing influences on the taller’s body—suits him.

There’s really no denying that Yifan is a head-turner, and Yixing blames that fact for the way his heart speeds up slightly at being looked at so intently by the elder. It’s just a normal reaction to being around attractive people, he reasons. He forces a smile on his lips and hopes that there isn’t any visible colouring in his face despite the way it feels slightly hotter than usual. “I know, I just want to make sure that you feel as if you’re in good hands.”

Yifan answers with a blinding smile of his own. “I do. I couldn’t imagine any better place to be at.”

His battle against the blush creeping up his cheeks is lost at that point so Yixing averts his gaze a little in the hope of hiding it at least. From the corner of his eye he catches what might be a satisfied grin on Yifan’s face, but perhaps he’s also only imagining that.

 _He is still my patient, I am only flustered because of his compliments_ , Yixing tells himself while his heart is pounding like mad in his chest, but the healer skillfully ignores that fact.

 

\---

 

It’s a month into Yifan’s stay in the hospital when his condition starts to noticeably deteriorate. As optimistic as Yixing was in the beginning, the little progress he makes is less than satisfying. He has managed to heal the angry red marks to a soft pink, but that’s about it. The birthmark remains broken, no matter what he attempts, and slowly but surely there is frustration crawling into him. He tries to keep all signs of it from Yifan, but it’s a bit useless. With Yifan’s powers still being completely gone after a month the elder must have reasoned by now that things aren’t progressing the way Yixing imagined them to in the beginning.

Yifan grows silent more often, seemingly too caught up in his own mind to properly answer Yixing with more than few words or a short sentence at most. There is a shadow over his eyes that seems to be getting darker, and frankly, the sight scares Yixing.

Truthfully, he has never really considered what powers mean for them. He has been born with them, always has had them. It never crossed his mind that there could be any possibility to lose these powers, and what an effect it would have on the wielder. He wouldn’t want to part with his powers for anything in the world, but there are people who never had any powers to begin with, and they live just fine. Yixing knew that losing the powers you’ve had all your life would probably be inconvenient, but in his naivety he had always assumed that losing them couldn’t be _that_ bad. He imagined it would be nothing you couldn’t learn to get by without after a little adjustment.

Yifan, however, proves this assumption of his to be devastatingly inaccurate.

They are sitting together one afternoon, Yifan bunched into blankets on his bed and Yixing sitting on a chair beside him. The taller claimed to be cold, so the healer agreed to stay in Yifan’s room for a change.

After all the books from the library he had poured over have proven to not contain any useful information, Yixing has finally gotten around to asking Yifan what it really feels like to have lost one’s powers. Yixing is sure that two weeks ago Yifan would simply have shrugged and claimed that it felt weird, without getting into the topic further. He had witnessed Yifan avoiding questions concerning his wounds often enough.

The day before had been a day where Yifan was exceptionally silent, and even now the taller’s eyes look tired, more so than they usually do. Yixing figures it’s the worry in his own eyes that prompts the blond to answer Yixing’s question. “It’s like… like…,” the blond visibly struggles with the words, his hands making helpless grabbing motions, though it’s impossible to tell whether he’s trying to show what he doesn’t know how to express with words, or whether it’s just a gesture to help him think, as if he could pluck the right phrasing from the air. “It’s like reaching for nothing where there was something before?”

He looks at Yixing with questioning eyes, gauging whether his explanation managed to get his point across to the younger, but from the way he falters a little and starts another attempt, Yixing reads that his confusion does show on his face.

“It’s like a void inside me where my powers used to be. I was able to fly before, but now I can’t anymore,” Yifan explains, his fingers nestling with the blanket in what looks like a motion meant to relieve stress. “Of course I don’t know what it feels like to lose a limb, but I imagine that it has a similar effect. You always relied on the fact that it’s there. That you have both legs to run, or both hands to grab things. But then one of these things is gone, leaving nothing but emptiness in its place.”

This time Yixing nods because he gets the picture. It sounds like a reasonable enough comparison, but Yifan doesn’t seem to be done yet with his explanation.

“Just that there is more to it. I don’t know about you or whether it’s a general rule, but whenever I used to fly, there would be that… feeling like a rush of endorphins, just stronger. I couldn’t go for a longer time without the need to fly getting overpowering. Now I look at the sky and _long_ , but I am unable to do anything about that.”

With the last sentence Yifan turns to look out of the window, and Yixing sees exactly what the elder was talking about. There is _longing_ in his eyes, and that look haunts him throughout the whole afternoon, and all the way back to his own home that evening. When he lies in bed at night, Yifan’s words are still resounding within his head.

 _I couldn’t go for a longer time without the need to fly getting overpowering_.

He spoke in the past tense, but it is clear from the longing gaze that that statement still is as true as ever. Yixing just doesn’t know what will happen when the desire gets too strong. It’s the first time for him to realize that _time_ might be his worst enemy.

 

\---

 

It’s after that day that Yixing starts to notice things he didn’t notice before, like rules to determine the mental state the taller is in.

There are good days and there are bad days with Yifan. The good days mean that Yifan greets him with a smile when the brunette walks through the door, holding up his sketching pad for Yixing to have a look at it, proudly leafing through the various pages and sketches of landscapes and animals the healer has never seen before.

On good days Yixing’s heart will beat a little faster whenever the elder’s hand brushes against his by accident, and a warmth will spread in his cheeks whenever Yifan teases him about how he looks all professional with his lab coat on when in reality Yixing spends so much of his time lazying around with the other. He might even catch a mischievous twinkle and the hint of something else in Yifan’s eyes when the other thinks Yixing can’t see his gaze from the corner of his eyes.

Good days mean that the curtains are drawn.

Walking in on Yifan sitting beside the window, studying the blue sky outside means that it’s a bad day. When he finds Yifan like this, the other is usually apathetic, his gaze unmoving from the scenery outside even if Yixing talks to him. On bad days Yixing’s heart beats faster because he’s on high-alert, and fear he doesn’t want to admit to runs cold through his veins at seeing Yifan be so unresponsive.

The longer the days drag on, the more often Yifan seems to have bad days. He tells Yixing about it, in the moments when he’s weaker, that there is this pull inside him that he can’t quench and that he feels as if it’s driving him mad.

Watching Yifan like this, having to realize that just being with Yifan, talking to him and healing his outer wounds doesn’t help, Yixing has an idea what the other means by that.

 

\---

 

Yixing has almost given up the hope of finding any information on Yifan’s case when he finally stumbles across an old book, written by an author he’s never heard of before (some Li Qiang) in a small store in the city. It’s not his first trip to the city with the purpose of finding information, but it’s the first time he returns with some tangible lead.

The book is thin, barely more than 50 pages; if Yixing is being honest, it’s more of a booklet rather than a book. But it’s titled “The Wielders: A Collection” and the introduction talks about the author having written down all the knowledge he could gather during his quest of finding out more about power wielders. Yixing has to read almost through the whole book before he comes across new information, but he feels like crying out in victory when he sees the chapter that deals with possible harmful influences on a wielder’s given powers.

According to the book, no ordinary natural force can possibly affect a wielder’s powers. Due to their extraordinary nature they can’t be tampered with that easily. It takes another wielder’s power for the possibility to exist to have any effect on someone else’s powers, and even then a lot of force and malicious intent are needed.

 _So his burns were caused by a fire wielder_. It makes sense to Yixing, in a way, since he already guessed that no ordinary fire could have caused the distortions of Yifan’s birthmark. This book is only confirming that assumption.

It’s the next few pages though, that make Yixing’s blood run cold. He has been worried for a while now that he can’t help Yifan, but he’d always placated himself with the thought that even if it might not be easy for Yifan to live with the “void,” Yixing would be able to help him through it somehow, by talking to him and being around him in general. Of course, assuming that Yixing isn’t able to heal him in the first place, which he hasn’t stopped believing in so far. The things he reads however turn Yixing’s worries into downright fears. He can feel them creep into his bones like a cold liquid, making him shiver and his stomach turn slightly.

The book speaks of “madness”—the same word Yifan used, but Yixing doesn’t want to think of that; it speaks of wielders who completely lose their will to live once their powers are taken from them.

“It is alluring to compare a wielder losing their powers to someone losing a limb. After all, both have lost something that once gave them the ability to perform certain actions or certain tasks. However, this comparison is misleading, and in all the cases that have been passed on, it is ultimately wrong.

“A wielder’s powers have an entirely different meaning to them than a mere limb does to a person. It isn’t known how exactly a wielder is linked to their power, but the bond is so tight, that one can easily claim that it’s a part of their soul, of who they are at the core,” Yixing reads aloud in a whisper, as if saying the words would change their meaning. It doesn’t, however, and his voice sounds eerie in the silence that surrounds him.

“Therefore losing their powers equals losing a part of their soul for a wielder. Some have a stronger will than others and can fight the gaping hole inside them. There isn’t much known about wielder’s who lost their powers, and it wasn’t possible for me to get any first hand information.

“The sad truth is that so far, no matter how strong the person was or how hard they fought, there isn’t any report of a muted wielder winning the fight in the long run. That is not to say it’s not possible. This book raises no claim to completeness of the information it presents. Only the facts that are known can be stated, and one of these facts is that to this day there isn’t any known muted wielder who’s alive. Madness came to claim them all, when the desire got too strong and eventually it led to them preferring not to live at all rather than having to live with the emptiness any longer.”

There are a few pages left in the book, but Yixing can’t focus on them anymore. He can’t focus on anything but the turn of his stomach and the hammering of his heart.

 _It says that it’s possible to go differently. There might be cases that defy the rule_. His brain supplies, as if trying to keep himself from falling into the paralysis of fear. _Yifan might be different. I can help him. This book could be wrong in general_.

It’s a tempting thought, to simply refute the content of the book. However it’s the only lead Yixing has had so far, so he can’t simply put it aside because it doesn’t fit his views or wishes.

 _Wishes_? the voice inside his head chides. _This isn’t about fitting into what you want, it’s about understanding that Yifan will die in the end and that you can’t do anything about it_.

His thoughts startle himself, because it’s only then that the realization sinks in; the meaning behind the inked sentences:

If the book is accurate, Yifan is going to inevitably die if his powers don’t return.

Suddenly, Yixing feels as if he can’t breathe. The book falls from his grasp, hitting the floor with a dull thud as he stands. Almost unconsciously he moves into the hallway, grabbing his jacket as he goes, and before he realizes it, he’s left his flat. The next thing he knows, he’s knocking on a mahogany front door. He’d lost track of time, but since he had worked his usual shift at the hospital before heading home to read, he reasons that it’s probably very late by now. Yixing wonders whether he should simply head back home when suddenly the door swings open.

Luhan visibly looks astonished and slightly disbelieving to find Yixing on his doorstep, the younger hugging his arms around his own body because the nights are still rather cold despite it being summer. “Yi-... xing?” There is a short pause in Luhan’s speech, as if he’s not certain whether or not he’s dreaming. Yixing can’t exactly blame him—so far he has been to Luhan’s place a total of five times perhaps, and the last visit is already dating back to more than a year ago. “Yixing, is something wrong?”

 _Of course he’ll assume something is wrong_ , Yixing thinks. Then again Luhan is right. Something is wrong. Or rather, Yixing feels as if nothing’s right.

“I would like that cup of coffee now.” He says instead of answering Luhan’s question, and for a second Luhan just continues looking at him in bafflement. Then his brain seems to catch up and he jumps into action.

“Sure, sure, come in. Please.” The honey-haired male takes a step back, gesturing for Yixing to enter the hallway. “Min? Yixing’s over.” Luhan shouts into the flat as soon as he has pulled the door close behind the younger. Immediately the head of Yixing's co-worker peaks out from a door frame down the hallway.

“Wha—?” The words die on the nurse’s lips when he spots Yixing. “Hello…?” he settles on instead, but it sounds more like a question than a greeting. From the ways his eyes flicker to Luhan, it’s one directed at the other.

“Yixing just wants to chat a little,” Luhan claims, casting a questioning glance at the younger himself. When the healer doesn’t object, Luhan lifts his eyes to meet Minseok’s gaze again, this time with an expression on his face that Yixing can’t quite interpret, but it looks less unsure and more determined.

Minseok seems to know exactly what it means. “Sure. If you guys need me or anything, just call.” And just like that Minseok disappears back into the room he came from.

Luhan, on the other hand, leads Yixing into the kitchen, telling him to take a seat at the table while he himself rummages through the closets. “I’m assuming you wanting that cup of coffee was more of a symbolic thing. If I recall correctly you weren’t ever partial to coffee, liking a cup of tea way more...” Luhan chatters away as if it is completely normal for Yixing to turn up at his doorstep in the middle of the night, unannounced. “I think... ah, there we have it. I knew I still had a bit of this tea left! It’s my favourite green one.”

The next few minutes see the elder bustling around the kitchen, boiling water and taking out mismatched cups. All the while he keeps on talking about inconsequential things. The sound of his voice is unexpectedly comforting to Yixing. He’s just happy he isn’t forced to listen to his own thoughts for now. Luhan only goes silent after he has placed a hot cup of green tea in front of Yixing and has sat down himself. He seems to want to give Yixing room to speak, patiently waiting for now.

Yixing’s throat feels constricted, the words simply refusing to come out. The heat of his cup makes him realize just how cold his hands have turned, and even though the temperature difference stings, he forces himself to keep his fingers folded around the hot ceramic.

“How’s Yifan?” Luhan eventually breaks through the silence in a conversational tone. The name makes Yixing flinch involuntarily, unable to control the motion. It has Luhan’s eyebrow arch up for the fraction of a second in surprise before he expertly schools his expression back into one of compassionate friendliness. “So this is about him?”

It’s weird, Yixing muses, how Luhan seems to be able to read him so well, even if it’s been so long since the last time they regularly hung out. There’s this knowing undertone in Luhan’s voice, and suddenly Yixing finds himself spilling almost everything. He keeps the discoveries of the afternoon to himself—perhaps because he doesn’t feel as if he can say “Yifan will die” out loud just yet.

He does, however, tell the elder everything about Yifan’s lost powers, about how the blond has been in an unhealthy state of mind increasingly often, and that Yixing is unable to heal the wounds covering the birthmark. He confides that he’s unable to heal _Yifan_ , and how the mere idea makes him feel helpless, and useless.

His throat feels slightly scratchy when stops talking, and the tea he’s holding has cooled down to being lukewarm rather than hot. It didn’t even register with him how much he’s spoken, especially since he hadn’t been able to sort his thoughts out at all in the beginning.

“I’m sorry for intruding like this, especially at this hour. But I just needed someone to talk to,” Yixing adds, looking at the elder to gauge his reaction.

“Oh no, you don’t need to apologize,” Luhan immediately tries to appease the younger, waving his hands around in front of his body. “That’s why I told you to contact me if you ever need anything. Because I _want you_ to contact me if you need anything.”

“Thank you.” For the first time that night Yixing sips at his tea. A distinctly flowery note stands out among the usual tastes of green tea, and the healer ends up taking another sip immediately after.

“No need to thank me for that,” Luhan mirrors Yixing’s action, gulping down a bit of his tea before continuing. “I could say I know how you feel, but most likely that’d be a lie. I’m pretty sure I don’t know how you feel, and I’m afraid I also don’t know if I have any useful advice for you.”

“That’s okay,” Yixing says, surprising even himself. He didn’t come for advice, he realizes in that moment, but because he had to let these thoughts out or they would have eaten away at him. “I think I just needed someone to listen.”

“Perhaps,” the elder agrees, letting his voice trail off slightly. Then resolution flickers over his face, and when Yixing turns to meet his gaze head-on, the most dominant emotion he sees in Luhan’s face is worry. “But there is one thing I’m sure about. Even if you might not think so, I know you well. I know you will do everything in your power to help Yifan. You will because you can’t stand to see anyone suffering, and if there is a way to help your patient, I know you’ll find it. But—” Luhan halts abruptly, lifting a finger as if to emphasize his point. “You have to be careful, Yixing. You tend to let matters get too close to your heart, and sometimes that means signing up for heartache right along with it.”

 _If you would only know how right you are about that_ , Yixing muses, but the only thing he does is nod.

They spend a while in Luhan’s kitchen, way past midnight and the time where both of them should be sleeping already, but neither seems to want to be the one to end their conversation. They talk about everything and nothing, and Yixing feels lighter than he has in weeks. In the end Yixing can hardly keep his eyes open anymore and Luhan has troubles getting a word out without yawning, so they reluctantly decide to call it a night.

Yixing intends to head home, but Luhan refuses to let him go. “It’s late and we have a perfectly functional guest room,” he explains, already dragging the younger down the hallway. “You can head to work tomorrow together with Minseok, and perhaps let some healthy rumours circulate a little.”

Yixing is too tired to react with anything other than narrowed eyes at Luhan’s lame grin. Perhaps it’s the lack of sleep making the elder think he’s funny.

Waking up the next morning has Yixing disoriented for a moment before he remembers where he’s at. That morning he does have a cup of coffee when he usually only drinks tea, and it’s equal parts because he needs the caffeine after the rather short night, and also because he wants to show appreciation for Minseok’s passion.

The walk to the hospital is silent, even with Minseok walking beside him, but that’s fine with Yixing. It’s a companionable silence, and after getting the chance to talk about Yifan’s situation with Luhan, his steps feel a little lighter already. A warmth has settled in his chest that keeps the negative thoughts away.

The feeling lasts exactly until Yixing walks into Yifan’s room and his world comes crashing down again at the sight of open curtains and a chair pulled right in front of the window.

 

\---

 

There is knowing and then there is _knowing_ , Yixing comes to discover. He has always been a curious person, wanting to understand how things worked and why and how he could possibly influence them to go differently. He has always craved knowledge, but now he can’t help but crave obliviousness. Perhaps if he was oblivious, every smile of Yifan’s wouldn’t hurt that much, and he wouldn’t be consumed by so much guilt at not being able to help his patient.

So far Yixing has always been able to heal whoever came to him in search for recovery. There might have been cases that were more difficult than others, ones that had pushed him to the limit, but this is different. This is past his limit, and Yixing stands helplessly at a wall, pushing and pushing at an immovable barrier.

 _He’s doing fine_ , he tries to convince himself. _I’ll find a way to heal him before he can’t take it anymore_.

Yixing pretends that these little reassurances aren’t as empty as he knows them to be.

 

\---

 

Summer is starting to properly claim the land, temperatures rising when Yixing’s beeper goes off at his hip and his heart stops for a moment. They never used to have any of these beepers; they aren’t expensive, but with the size of the hospital it simply never made sense to invest in them. However, since Yifan’s admittance and the other starting to have bad days more often, Junmyeon has decided that the beepers are for the best. “Just in case,” the elder had said when he had handed Yixing the little device.

 _Just in case Yifan has such a bad day that they’ll immediately need to call for help_ , the brunette’s brain had automatically supplied.

The beeper hasn’t been in use so far, and Yixing feels strangely reminded of the day of Yifan’s admittance when he dashes through the hallways, only to come sliding to a halt in front of the blond’s room. He’s panting, which is slightly ridiculous since it is almost impossible to have any long distance between two points inside the small, two-story building; but the adrenaline pumping through his veins elevates his breathing without the need for physical exertion.

“I found him like this, but he doesn’t listen to anything I say. I’m not even sure if he can hear me at all,” Jongdae informs him immediately, sounding worried. The nurse has been attending to Yifan for almost as long as Yixing has been treating the taller, and Yixing is sure that some sort of friendship has built between the two during that time. It’s only natural for the feline-eyed male to be worried, but Yixing doesn’t even stop to pay his friend any attention.

His eyes immediately zoom in on Yifan, sitting curled up on his bed, fingers digging into the flesh of his arms in a manner that looks painful. The elder is unmoving, his eyes clenched tightly shut, but Yixing can hear his muttering voice, although it's too silent for the healer to understand anything.

“Yifan!” Yixing calls out, a bit more forceful than he usually might, trying to catch the other’s attention. But just as Jongdae said, there is no reaction even when the younger rushes to Yifan’s side. The blond stays in his curled up position; not even lifting his head to acknowledge Yixing’s presence.

Up close the sounds Yifan is producing form discernible words, words that Yixing can understand as soon as he leans in. “Want, want, _need to_.” The same words, voiced over and over in the baritone of Yifan’s voice. Every single one of it pierces through Yixing’s heart, makes him turn more frantic. The only thought remaining on his mind is that he has to get Yifan out of this state, one way or another.

 _Madness will come and claim them all, when the desire gets too strong_.

Yifan’s behaviour is too close to madness, painfully so, and Yixing can’t have that. He hasn’t found the way to heal Yifan yet.

“Yifan? Yifan it’s me,” he says with more calmness than he feels, grabbing Yifan’s arms. “Yifan, this is Yixing. Please talk to me. I will help you get whatever it is you want.”

For a moment it seems as if Yifan remains in his own world, then suddenly his head lifts a little. His eyes are open but strangely unseeing. Yet they focus on Yixing, as the elder weakly mutters. “I want to fly.” His fingers tighten into his arms, his fingernails breaking the skin. Yifan doesn’t even seem to notice. “I _need_ to fly.”

“No you don’t,” Yixing replies, even though he know that _yes, Yifan needs to fly_. “Yifan, it’s okay, I’m here.”

 _Open windows mean bad days_. Yixing’s brain supplies. It’s a split second decision, really, to step forward and hug Yifan’s head to his chest. If he blocks the light out, perhaps it will lessen the temptation.

“It’s okay Yifan. It’s okay,” he whispers the words even though he doesn’t believe them, running one hand through the taller's soft hair while the other is splayed against Yifan’s shoulder blade to hold him close.

“Yixing, I need to fly,” Yifan responds, and at the sound of his own names a wave of relief washes over Yixing. The feeling is short-lived though, because Yifan doesn’t show any signs of relaxing, his fingers gripping as tight as ever.

“Yifan, let go,” the younger softly says, moving his own hands to cover Yifan’s, trying to pry his fingers away but the other doesn’t budge. “Let go. Hold onto me.”

“I can’t,” Yifan seems to be talking to himself, his head shaking slightly as if to underline his statement. “I am not allowed to let go.”

The words make Yixing startle for a moment, before the meaning of Yifan grabbing onto his arms so tightly finally registers with him. _He has to hold onto himself because otherwise he’s afraid of losing himself_.

Icy fear settles in the pit of Yixing’s stomach at seeing how far gone Yifan is. Sure, he has had a few bad days, but never before has Yixing seen him in such a state. “It’s okay. Hold onto me instead.” His tone has long since lost its calmness, turning beseeching instead as he leans down to come to eye level with the other male. “You are not alone in this.”

But Yifan refuses to move, instead shaking his head as he whispers “No, no, no” over and over again. The harder Yixing tries to pry his fingers apart, to convince the blond that he should relax, the more fervently Yifan refuses, the volume of his voice rising, shaking his head vehemently.

Ceasing his attempts, Yixing takes a step back instead, hoping that it will make Yifan relax. The elder does stop trashing as a result, but he curls into an even tighter ball than before.

“Jongdae?” Yixing calls for the nurse, eyes staying glued to Yifan’s hunched form. His voice sounds like a croak to his own ears, so the healer clears his throat before trying again. “Jongdae? Can you please get some tranquilizers?”

He _loathes_ the idea of having to put Yifan on meds to get him to calm down, but he frankly doesn’t see any other way to get him out of his distress. He might have been able to use his powers to force the taller's muscles to relax, but the effect would only last for as long as Yixing keeps the connection between them up. The way Yifan is acting at that moment though suggests that as soon as Yixing's powers left his body, he would only fall back into the same state of desperate tenseness all over again, making the tranquilizers Yixing's only option of getting Yifan out of this fit.

Jongdae is at Yixing’s side within a minute, holding out a syringe to him. The healer takes it with a heavy heart. “I’m sorry,” he leans close enough to whisper into Yifan’s ear, before he finally injects the needle into Yifan’s arm.

The elder doesn’t react to the sensation at all, as if he’s too lost in his own world to even register what is happening around him. Yixing mentally counts to ten and then Yifan’s body starts relaxing. With the sedative taking its effect the tall blond slumps, and Yixing uses the opportunity to guide him to lie back down on the bed.

Yifan is still mumbling something to himself, but the sounds are too slurred for Yixing to be able to make out any words. A few minutes pass in silence where Yixing simply watches Yifan’s features relax in sleep. His thoughts are a mess, and he doesn’t even realize Jongdae is still at his side until the younger gently places his hand on Yixing’s shoulder.

“Ge, are you okay?” he asks, concern evident in his voice.

In any other situation Yixing might have claimed to be perfectly fine. He hates it if other people worry about him, but his stomach feels as he’s about to throw up.

An idea has formed in his mind, and he feels as if it can’t wait any longer. “I’m sorry Jongdae. I’m not feeling that well. Can you please tell Junmyeon that I headed home earlier today?” His voice sounds strangely hollow.

In the back of his mind he registers Jongdae voicing an affirmation, and asking whether there’s anything he can do to help, but Yixing just shakes his head. He even flashes a small smile at the younger that’s meant to be reassuring, but in juxtaposition with his behaviour it’s such a stark contrast that it doesn’t end up being reassuring at all.

The minute he steps out of the hospital he has his phone in his hands, looking through his address book for one specific contact. There is one person he has to see now. The only person who can possibly help him.

 

\---

 

Yixing knows Park Chanyeol from high school. They used to frequent similar circles of friends, and even though they never were extraordinarily close, they got along well enough.

Yixing hadn’t seen him for years, until Luhan started dragging the healer along to meet-ups of their old group of friends again. Ever since he suddenly appeared at Luhan’s doorstep, Yixing has made sure to go along with the elder’s invitations as often as possible. There have been many days where he needed to take his mind off of things for a while, and these meet-ups provided the perfect opportunity.

Now he doesn’t just want to talk, however.

He has been planning on making more tests concerning wielder’s powers ever since he read that (wretched) book, but he never got around to it. At that moment however it seems like his only chance, and he clings to the hope that he’ll be able to gain some valuable insight.

If only a wielder’s power can harm another wielder’s power, it would only be logical that a healer can also restore someone else’s power. After all, if a power can influence another in a negative manner, it should also be possible to influence it in a positive way. Yixing only needs more information to work with. _Perhaps I simply haven’t yet figured out correctly how a fire wielder’s power damages tissue. I just need to find out more about it_.

So he contacts Chanyeol, the only fire wielder he knows. It surprises him that the other immediately agrees to meeting up, and that way he finds himself on the clearing of a small forest near the hospital, standing opposite of Chanyeol.

They exchange a few phrases of greeting, but Yixing hasn’t come to chit-chat, so he gets down to business pretty quickly. “Chanyeol, I need your help with something.”

The taller male cocks his head slightly to the side, and the wide grin he always seems to be wearing turns a little questioning. “I kinda guessed, what with you asking me to meet up all of a sudden. But sure, I’ll do what I can to help you.”

There probably is a subtle way to approaching this topic. One that involves explanations and coercing, but Yixing’s mind isn’t exactly in the best working order at that moment. “I’ll need you to burn me,” the smaller says, lifting his left arm in order to provide a target.

The smile on Chanyeol’s face slips, and he gapes at the brunette, but doesn’t say or do anything else.

“Go ahead, burn me,” Yixing prompts again, his left arm remaining outstretched.

Chanyeol looks at him as if he’s just sprouted a second head, and takes a small step back. “What?” he asks incredulously, as if he’s not quite sure whether he heard correctly.

“As I said, go ahead and burn me. I need to find something out, and I can’t expect anyone else to do this for me. You’re the only one who can help me with this.” Yixing is completely calm, resolved. His request is uncommon to say the least—crazy, really—but the healer doesn’t waver.

Chanyeol on the other hand does. His hesitation quickly makes way to disbelieving indignation. It’s not easy to throw the taller off-track, to elicit anything but a silly laugh or a wide grin from him, but in that moment he looks downright horrified. “Have you lost your mind? I won’t!”

“It’s okay Chanyeol. I can heal myself the way I can heal anyone else.” The older tries to appease the other, fitting a reassuring smile on his features as he takes a step forward.

Chanyeol reacts by taking a corresponding step back, as if Yixing could somehow grab his hands and force the flames out of his fingers. “That’s not the point here! Even if you can heal your wounds, why would you want to hurt yourself in the first place?”

“I already told you, didn’t I? There is a matter I need to do research on, and for that I need burns caused by a fire wielder.” Yixing’s calm façade is slowly starting to fall apart. A beseeching, almost desperate tone seeps into his voice without him even really noticing.

 _If I can experience a fire wielder’s fire first hand, perhaps then I’ll be able to help Yifan better_.

Chanyeol studies him with intent, then his features bunch together in a frown. The expression is so uncommon and unexpected on the taller’s face—downright unfitting—that Yixing spontaneously feels like bursting into laughter. He refrains himself from it because Chanyeol is _already_ looking at him as if he’s gone mad, and laughing now would probably only support that assumption in the red-head’s eyes.

“This is because of him.”

It’s not even a question, but rather comes out sounding like an accusation. Yixing doesn’t have to ask who he’s talking about, it’s obvious to the both of them. Yifan has arisen often enough as a conversation topic between Yixing and Luhan during their gatherings for all of their friends to know about the hospital’s permanent patient by now.

He wonders why Chanyeol has such a violent reaction to the mere idea of Yixing helping Yifan. It’s his task as a healer, isn’t it? To help people?

“It is because of him,” he agrees, because what use would denying it have? Chanyeol knows either way. “With my current abilities I can’t help him any further, so I have to look for new methods.”

The fire wielder just narrows his eyes again, crossing his arms in front of his body in a gesture of defiance. “You would go that far for him? Letting yourself be burned when you don’t even know for sure whether or not you’ll be able to heal the burns properly?”

Every word of Chanyeol’s, every second of inaction passing by chips away at Yixing’s composure, his patience running thin. “I _do know_ that I can heal the burns your fire causes, I already healed all of his burns, so you don’t need to worry about that,” he insists, moving his arms in a gesture of emphasis.

Chanyeol just eyes him skeptically. “But then why? What do you hope to gain if you already know how to heal these wounds?”

Yixing wonders whether Chanyeol knows that he just voiced out loud what the small, sensible voice inside Yixing’s head has been saying ever since he decided on this plan. So he tells Chanyeol what he has been telling himself to quench that voice. “Knowledge.”

It is a weak excuse, and voiced out like this Yixing notices the edge of desperation in his voice, but he continues denying the unreasonableness of his actions.

Chanyeol however gapes slightly at him, before huffing in disbelief. “I hope you know how ridiculous you’re being. Going to such extremes, for the off-chance of gaining a little knowledge.”

“I don’t think you understand, Chanyeol. I have to _try_ at least, don’t I?” Yixing knows that raising his voice will get him no step closer to his goal, but he just can’t help himself. “He is my patient, and I have to do everything in my power to help my patients.”

The sentence is followed by silence, and Chanyeol is just studying him. His gaze hardens a little around the edges when he finally takes a step forward instead of only ever moving backwards. “I think you’re lying to yourself if you believe that’s your reason.”

The words sound odd to Yixing’s ears, and he automatically tilts his head in puzzlement. A faint smile creeps back into Chanyeol’s eyes at the gesture, but there’s still bitterness in his voice when he continues. “This is not something you should do for any patient of yours, going to these lengths. I know you tend to endanger your own health to help others, but there is a limit.”

“Isn’t that my choice to make?” Yixing argues in defiance, but he knows he’s already lost the battle.

“It is,” the taller agrees, and steps closer still, coming to a halt directly in front of Yixing. He lifts his hand to splay gently against Yixing’s cheek in a gesture of unexpected intimacy. “But I will have no part in it, Zhang Yixing. I would love to help you, but this is something I simply can’t do.”

There’s something in Chanyeol’s gaze right before he turns around and leaves the clearing that makes Yixing wonder if he might have been a bit too oblivious around the other back when they were in high school.

(He also wonders if he looks at Yifan with a similar gaze, helplessness, fondness and pity all mixing together.)

 

\---

 

His steps carry Yixing back to the hospital that night all on their own. Ever since parting with Chanyeol, he has been wandering around aimlessly, walking in order to clear his head a little, to push back the suffocating helplessness.

It was crazy in the first place to ask Chanyeol, to assume that getting into contact with a fire wielder’s power would get him any new information. Healing Yifan’s wounds hadn’t been a problem, so what could he possibly gain from doing the same for himself? Perhaps it was nothing but an attempt to punish himself after all, a foolish notion that he has to go through similar trials as Yifan if he’s not able to help him.

The hallways in the hospital are deserted, pretty much all lights turned off. It is a normal sight at night, since they hardly ever have enough patients staying overnight in the small building to warrant a lot of staff to be present. Yifan is the only patient at that time, so there is also only one nurse sitting at the nursing station, just in case.

She looks dubious when Yixing tells her that she can go home because he will supervise Yifan in her stead, but when the healer smiles and reassures her that it’s really okay, he still has work to tend to from when he left earlier that afternoon either way, she gets up and thanks him with a bow before disappearing down the hallway to fetch her personal belongings from the staff room.

For a moment, Yixing contemplates putting on his lab coat that he stuffed so unceremoniously into his locker before heading out to meet Chanyeol, but he decides against it. Due to the size of their hospital and Junmyeon’s policy of all the staff members viewing each other as a family rather than a business, there really is no need for formality, _especially_ not in the middle of the night. Instead, Yixing slouches into a chair behind the counter, opening the first two buttons of his shirt because it feels too constricting, and sets to work. He busies himself with looking through medical files at first, sorting and completing records that he hasn’t paid that much attention to in the last few weeks.

It’s probably half an hour after his colleague has passed him on her way out, wishing him a good night, that Yixing finally gives in. He’s been wanting to go see Yifan ever since he set foot into the hospital, but he reasoned that the other would be asleep either way, and that seeing Yifan now might not be a clever idea in general. Not after the emotional turmoil he’s been going through, and with how he’s questioning why Yifan can put him into such a state of distress and restlessness.

And perhaps it’s _exactly_ because of that that he eventually finds himself sneaking into Yifan’s room as silently as possible.

As expected, the blond is fast asleep in his bed, with the curtains drawn. Pulling a plastic chair close, Yixing carefully takes a seat right beside him, just studying his face. He looks relaxed like this, a stark difference to how Yixing saw him that afternoon or to how guarded his expressions have become in the last few weeks.

Yixing can’t help but worry about how often Yifan claims he’s fine as of lately. Instead of being a sign of improvement it looks more as if the taller is resigning, as if he’s trying to accept that he’s never going to feel any different again.

It turns Yixing’s insides to think about it, and unconsciously he reaches out his hand to gently stroke Yifan’s hair. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, the apology coming easily to his lips now that Yifan is asleep. “I’m sorry that I can’t help you.”

He continues petting the blond strands, until suddenly the other male stirs in his bed. “Sorry for waking you,” Yixing apologizes, a fond smile on his lips as he watches Yifan blink sleepily, eyes darting around in disorientation for a moment before settling on the outline sitting beside his bed.

“How are you feeling?” the smaller asks in a hushed voice when Yifan sits up, scooting back slightly on the bed for a more comfortable sitting position.

“I don’t know,” the elder replies, one hand rubbing at his eyes, and it’s the most honest answer Yixing has heard from him in a while.

A sad smile graces his features, and he hopes that Yifan can’t see it in the dim light. Dragging his fingers through Yifan’s hair one last time—because the other still seems to be too sleepy to mind the motion—he makes as if to get up and leave.

He barely manages to stand before Yifan’s hand catches his arm, preventing him from moving away. The blond’s grip is strangely warm on Yixing’s skin, and the smaller looks from his arm to Yifan and back in surprise. “Don’t go.” Yifan croaks, sleep still present in his voice, eyes widened almost as if he’s scared. The taller gives Yixing’s arm a tug, effectively bringing him back to the bedside.

It’s not as if Yixing planned on resisting the motion, but he’s still taken by surprise from the unexpectedly needy gesture.

“Please stay.” Yifan’s voice is tinted with something that sounds like a hint of desperation and it makes Yixing’s insides clench. There is nothing he wants more than to take that desperation away, but he is clueless as to _how_ he could possibly do that.

With his tall frame Yifan is only barely a head smaller than Yixing when he’s sitting on the hospital bed. Another pull and Yixing comes stumbling forward, but Yifan catches him. He winds his long arms around the smaller’s waist, burying his face into the crook of Yixing’s neck that’s on his eye level. Suddenly Yixing is enveloped by warmth. It startles him but he quickly comes back to his senses when Yifan’s hands fist into the back of his shirt. Lifting his own arms to wrap them around Yifan’s shoulders, he pulls the taller male closer, in reassurance that he’s not going to go anywhere.

Minutes pass like this, with Yifan just breathing in and out, and Yixing trying not to squirm too much whenever the gusts of hot air brush past his neck. Instead he focuses on running one of his hands up and down Yifan’s back a little, as if to calm him. He doesn’t know what prompts Yifan to suddenly move, but he jumps slightly when the other’s breaths are suddenly replaced by lips.

Yifan doesn’t let himself be deterred though by the startle, and keeps on pressing soft kisses along the column of Yixing’s neck. A gentle shudder runs through Yixing’s body, and even though the sensation if far from unpleasant, he should pull away. His mind tells him he _has to_ pull away.

And yet, he can’t. Yifan’s fingers are shaky where they press against his back, his breathing slightly shallow and the other just appears so vulnerable, in need of something, someone to hold onto, that Yixing simply can’t pull away.

 _No, that’s what you’re trying to make yourself believe. That you’re doing this for him, that it’s him needing to hold onto you, when in reality you want to hold onto him just as tightly_.

For the first time, Yixing allows himself to question his motives, and to consider Chanyeol’s words. He wonders why Yifan's case is so important to him, that it might not be just his solidarity and pride as a healer that's costing him his sleep at night, that's fostering the desperation he feels at being helpless around Yifan whenever the other has a bad day. Perhaps he doesn't want to help Yifan because he's a patient who's suffering, but because he's _Yifan_ , and Yixing doesn't want to lose him.

So he tilts his head a little to the side, giving Yifan’s more room and hums approvingly. At the same time his hands start moving up and down Yifan’s back with more pressure, more purpose. He finally allows himself a shiver when Yifan’s hot breath ghosts over his neck, before immediately being replaced by a mouth. Seemingly encouraged by the lack of resistance Yifan changes from just kissing Yixing’s skin to sucking on it lightly. It has Yixing gasp at the stimulation, his neck always having been his weak spot, and his hands involuntarily curl into the fabric of Yifan’s shirt as his breathing picks up, only to hitch again when Yifan soothes his tongue over the aggravated spot.

At the same time, the taller’s hands have started to travel, easing down far enough to be able to slip underneath Yixing’s shirt, splaying against the warm skin of his back. Yixing is rather grateful for the fact that he unbuttoned his shirt earlier when Yifan’s mouth starts moving lower, down the column of his neck to the collarbones that are exposed, nipping and teasing the skin along the way. His hands move in exactly the opposite direction, up Yixing’s back, taking the hem of his shirt with them. The taller’s hands are slightly calloused, but somehow they still feel like feather light touches on his skin, and Yixing lets out a shuddering breath.

With the elder sucking bruises to his chest, Yixing’s hands try to look for purchase, and while one simply fists into the back of Yifan’s shirt, the other cards into Yifan’s hair. The elder hums at the sensation, and Yixing feels the vibration of it on his skin. A low moan forms in his throat when Yifan continues his ministrations, and when the other strokes up and around his chest to run his thumbs over Yixing’s nipples, the moan escapes after a startled gasp.

Spurred on by the noise, Yifan turns on the bed, letting his legs drop to the floor so that he’s fully facing Yixing now. Without a second of hesitation Yixing follows Yifan’s hands guiding him to stand between Yifan’s spread legs.

Yixing can feel his pulse hammering as Yifan’s fingers continue to tease his nipples under his shirt, and with half-lidded eyes he watches the elder with rapt fascination. The taller male still has his eyes closed, and looks utterly concentrated, almost single-minded, as he continues licking along Yixing’s collarbones. Yixing on the other hand is quickly losing his composure, with every touch of Yifan’s, every lick and kiss and bite and rubbing he can feel his blood rushing south.

In the back of his head, an indignant voice screams at Yixing to stop, that he’s at the _hospital_ , his _goddamn work place_ , and that he’s about to break the “No sex in the office” rule in the most literal sense. The hospital might feel like a second home to him rather than a workplace more times than not, but there still is a sense of prudency that should hold him back. However Yifan’s skilled mouth is drawing sinful noises from him, and somehow his desire to be close to the other is stronger than his embarrassment at that moment.

It doesn’t take any more than a simple nudging of Yifan’s for Yixing to lift his arms, enabling the elder to finally strip him out of the shirt. It’s then that Yifan stills for a moment, as if in consideration, but before Yixing has the chance to think more of it the other has delved in again already, this time tilting his head slightly so that he can press hungry kisses to Yixing’s ribs.

The cold air hitting his skin and Yifan’s wet mouth along his ribcage make Yixing release a moan, as his hips buck forward on their own account. The other takes the motion in stride, and Yixing is almost sure he sees the hint of a smile play on Yifan’s lips as he moves upwards. Yixing is panting by the time Yifan’s mouth reaches the younger’s nipple, and he seems to take downright delight in giving the bud kittenish licks, making Yixing gasp, the younger’s hands fisting helplessly in Yifan’s hair.

The elder’s hands have moved from his back to holding his waist again, so his hips can’t snap forward, can’t look for friction the way they want when Yifan sucks gently on Yixing’s nipple. Being restrained like this only ends up making Yixing more desperate, and he feels how his moans keep on getting louder, in proportion to his breathing getting shorter.

It’s unfair, Yixing thinks, how he is half naked already while Yifan is still fully dressed, so his hands start pulling at the back of Yifan’s shirt, hoping that the other will get the hint. He does, pulling away temporarily to allow Yixing to draw the shirt over his head, before immediately resuming his previous task.

Yixing can already feel his erection starting to strain against his pants. There just is something to Yifan’s touches, a combination of softness and roughness, and Yixing can feel his skin tingle in the path of Yifan’s fingers. With the other’s shirt finally out of the way, Yixing lets his fingertips dance across Yifan’s bare back as well, though their position prevents him from doing pretty much anything else. A gentle shudder runs through Yifan, reminiscent of the one Yixing had felt, and it’s all the incentive Yixing needs to apply a bit more pressure to his hands, digging his fingertips slightly into the planes of Yifan’s back.

Yifan has a nice back. Broad shoulders, strong muscles rippling beneath his skin in reaction to Yixing’s touches. It makes the younger want to run his hands up and down it properly, but his motions are always interrupted by sudden jerks when another wave of arousal shoots through his vein.

Yixing doesn’t know how long they spend like this, but at one point his moans start getting interspersed by breathy calls of Yifan’s name. By that point Yixing is hard, and beads of sweat are starting to form on his forehead. He feels a bit embarrassed by how easily aroused he is, but Yifan is a very handsome person, with a very skilled mouth, and Yixing just feels desperate for his touch. He is also desperate for finally getting more body contact, so he takes a step forward, crowding Yifan’s personal space. The elder immediately understands, but while Yixing expects the other to simply scoot back, or to lie down, he does not expect Yifan to stand up.

Caught in a moment of confusion Yixing lets himself be turned around, the back of his legs suddenly hitting the mattress, and then he understands. He has given in to doing things the way Yifan wants to do them either way, so he willingly moves onto the bed. Yifan doesn’t even wait for him to have laid down completely before he crawls on top of Yixing. It almost looks as if it’s a compulsion for Yifan to go back to worshipping Yixing’s chest, more desperate in his movements now than he was just a few moments before.

The new position enables Yixing to comfortably curl his fingers into Yifan’s hair, and he closes his eyes to let the sensations wash over him. His moans have long since become unrestrained, and even Yifan’s name leaves his lips easily now.

The elder moves along his chest, travelling from Yixing’s stomach up to his nipples, over his collarbones and down his ribs again. It’s starting to become a torture, really, because even when Yifan doesn’t restrain his hips, Yixing can only reach air when he bucks up since the other’s body is too far away. Eventually Yixing lets out a frustrated whine, followed by a gasp and a drawn out moan when Yifan bites his nipple in retort.

Unwilling to stay passive any longer Yixing urges Yifan with tugs to move upwards, and the elder complies with the impulses. He crawls up Yixing’s body, moving over Yixing’s collarbones and his throat, until his face is finally hovering over Yixing’s.

When their eyes meet they both still suddenly, as if they are collectively holding their breath. A hint of hesitation flickers through Yifan’s body, as if he’s only now realizing who he has been kissing. Yixing wonders what he must look like now, disheveled hair, panting, his lower lip slightly red from where he has bitten on it to control the noises falling from his mouth.

They just look at each other with heaving chests for what feels like an eternity and only a heartbeat at the same time, a sudden moment of calmness in the middle of a roaring storm. Then resolution flashes through Yifan’s eyes, and within the blink of an eye he delves down to claim Yixing’s lips for the first time.

The younger’s body arches up, trying to meet Yifan half way while at the same time instinctively trying to get as much contact with Yifan’s body as possible. He succeeds in bringing their chests together.

All of that is forgotten however over the press of Yifan’s lips to his. Yixing has been in denial over the fact that he was wondering how Yifan’s lips would fit onto his own, but even if he had allowed himself to imagine it, he doesn’t think he would have come close to reality. Not because the reality is so much better than anything he could ever have imagined, but because there is something distinctly _Yifan_ in this kiss, in the way their mouths dance together, and without experiencing it Yixing wouldn’t have stood a chance at picturing it.

Their kiss doesn’t start out gentle, or slow. They’re both way too far gone for that. Their kiss consists of them messily clashing together, tongues stroking along lips and invading mouths and Yifan sucking on Yixing’s bottom lip to make him spill a continuous string of low moans, his knees turning weak while his hips buck upwards.

Yixing’s hands move from Yifan’s hair, traveling down the other’s back until they reach the waistband of Yifan’s pants. He doesn’t let his hands slip in, just pushes the tips of his fingers underneath the fabric, but the motion is enough to have the other let out a breathy whine as his hips grind down.

 _Finally_ , Yixing’s mind sings when the motion has their clothed erections rub against each other, and he throws his head back as he gasps. Yifan simply goes back to nibbling at his throat, but at the same time continues rutting against Yixing, and the younger brings his hips up in time to match the other’s movements. The sensation is enough to get Yixing to the edge, but at the same time it’s not enough, and Yixing is caught between moaning and whining. It’s Yifan who lets his hands travel down to tug on the waistband of Yixing’s pants first, and Yixing is more than happy to lift his hips a little, enabling the elder to strip him naked.

For a moment, Yixing feels exposed, especially with Yifan looking at him with a gaze that’s indecipherable in the darkness of the room. But then the elder sits up on his knees so that he can drag his own pants down, kicking them off the bed quickly. A soft moan escapes Yixing at the sight of Yifan’s cock, but the sound is quickly kissed from his lips as Yifan is back to covering the smaller’s body with his own within seconds.

When he lowers his hips this time, their cocks brush against each other without any barrier of clothing between them, and the sensation makes a keen rip from Yixing’s throat, before he switches to moans between labored breaths. His hands grabbing at Yifan’s ass, he half-guides, half-follows the elder’s movements. Their kisses have turned sloppy as they both can’t manage to get enough air into their lungs to properly kiss, so it’s really more like they’re sharing the air between them rather than properly kissing each other.

There still is a sense of desperation to Yifan’s movements, his hands gripping a bit tighter at Yixing’s, while the younger is fisting the sheets, but there also is a sense of calmness. Yifan’s eyes almost look appreciative, as if they want to remember every moment of this. Fixing Yifan’s eyes, Yixing holds his gaze and leans up. There’s just something in the elder’s gaze, some edge that begets a feeling of restlessness in Yixing. It squeezes his heart because there are too many emotions running through him at the moment for him to be able to deal with all of them, to sort them out.

He feels helpless, and raw, and so connected to Yifan at the same time, and he tries to pour all of that into the kiss. A part of him is afraid that the other will recoil, somehow taste the emotions and decide that he better get away. Yixing has no delusions that them being in this position right now might not be about him specifically, but rather about Yifan needing an outlet. This might very well just be a desperate attempt of Yifan’s to fill the hole in his soul with physical pleasure.

And yet Yixing can’t help himself, but Yifan doesn’t pull back. On the contrary, he stills the movements of his hips and just presses Yixing deeper into the pillows, kissing back with more passion than the younger would ever have expected. When they part, they are both panting. Yixing feels the layer of sweat where their lower bodies and chests are pressed against each other, and while he reasons that it should feel gross he is so unbelievably turned on by the feeling.

“I think…,” he whispers, trailing off, taking yet another risk by breaking the silence that has been residing between them so far. When Yifan only looks back at him expectantly, Yixing continues to speak, embarrassment prickling up his neck. “I think,” Yixing tries again, licking his lips, “we keep some lube in the nursing station….”

Yixing lets the statement trail off, all the implications and questions hanging in the air between them without him having to voice them. Yifan regards the younger with an intense gaze, then he leans down for another kiss. This one is gentle, surprisingly so, and when Yixing’s chest constricts he has to be careful to prevent the kiss from breaking him.

Instead, he jumps from the bed when Yifan pulls back. Under normal circumstances, Yixing reasons he should be very embarrassed to be running around stark naked with a raging hard-on in the middle of the hospital. It is his _work place_ for goodness’ sake, but for one he knows that he and Yifan are the only people in the building, and frankly he is too aroused to particularly care. Nonetheless, he is immensely relieved when he finds the lube in the first supply cupboard he opens, exactly where he remembers seeing it.

Within less than a minute he’s back in Yifan’s room, placing the lube on the bedside table as they resume their old positions. After sharing a few more kisses Yifan moves to uncap the bottle, spreading lube over his fingers. The sight alone make Yixing moan a little as he spreads his legs farther, giving Yifan easier access and a confirmation that he wants this at the same time.

Yifan leaves one last kiss on Yixing’s lips, before moving back down his chest again, paying attention to it in the same manner he had in the beginning.

The elder’s tongue tracing the lines of Yixing’s faint abs is very arousing, but it’s not enough to completely distract him from the wet and cold sensation as Yifan rubs his index finger along Yixing’s rim.

He forces himself to relax nonetheless when Yifan pushes the first digit it, slowly, giving Yixing time to adjust around the foreign intrusion.

The first finger is hardly any problem, though the second one makes Yixing squirm slightly. However he’s good at covering it up. When Yifan moves his mouth from Yixing’s chest to lick a hot stripe from the base of Yixing’s cock up to its tip, Yixing gasps loudly, and releases the breath he was holding in a loud moan. His hips try to snap upward, and when they move back down they move right on Yifan’s fingers.

The third finger is more of a challenge and Yixing has to control his breathing forcefully while he tries to keep his face relaxed at the same time in order to not worry Yifan. With the elder’s lips having enveloped his cock though, Yixing finds that the stinging sensation is bearable. Yifan thrusts all of his fingers in and out at an increasing pace, changing the angles. It takes him a few thrusts, but suddenly Yixing’s eyes widen as a keen echoes from the walls, his back arching from the bed as Yixing tries to gather his breath.

“There,” he pants, and besides Yifan’s name and suggesting that they should get lube, it’s the first time he says anything since they started. But the sensation feels too good, and Yixing can’t help but getting vocal. “Please, Yi- _Yifan, there_.”

The elder stops sucking Yixing off the moment he finds his prostate, but while Yixing mourns the missing heat around his cock a little, the feeling of Yifan rubbing his fingers against Yixing’s prostate over and over again makes him feel way too ecstatic to complain. By the time Yifan pulls his fingers out Yixing is already breathless, panting heavily as he watches Yifan lube up his length. His legs automatically widen to accommodate the taller male.

Strangely enough there is no moment of hesitation in Yifan now, when he aligns himself with Yixing’s entrance and pushes is. They release a simultaneous groan, Yixing however because Yifan is _big_ and the stretch it definitely more than from Yifan’s fingers. Yifan, on the other hand, looks tense from having to fight the urge to simply thrust right into the smaller’s body, but he restrains himself, inching forward steadily but slowly.

Once he’s fully seated he stills. Like this his face is right above Yixing’s and he has himself braced on his elbows situated on either side of Yixing’s head. The expression in his eyes is a mixture of lust, his pupils blown wide and his cheeks flushed, but there is also a sense of vulnerability.

They are both stripped naked, stripped raw in that moment, and Yixing keeps his eyes locked with Yifan’s when he rolls his hips. He keeps his eyes locked with Yifan’s when the elder begins to move, and even when the thrusts start to feel good enough for Yixing to start moaning again.

He only breaks away when Yifan angles his thrusts _just right_ and suddenly Yixing is arching off the bed again, his fingers scrambling for purchase on Yifan’s back. Of course they don’t find anything to hold onto, and Yixing is afraid he left scratches on the other’s skin, but Yifan neither ceases his thrusts nor does he complain. He only groans, but it sounds more approving than anything else.

The keens Yixing releases seem to spur on Yifan even more, because his pace increases until he is thrusting into the younger so quickly that Yixing can’t even seem to be able to properly breathe between one thrust and another. He is just about to grab his own neglected erection that is being rubbed between their chests, but Yifan is quicker, reaching between them to curl his long fingers around it.

Yixing finds it difficult to decide whether to move back onto Yifan’s cock or up into his hand, but it’s a short internal battle as he quickly feels the coils in his stomach. It doesn’t take more than one well-aimed thrust to his prostate together with the tightening of Yifan’s hands, and he’s cuming, Yifan’s name sounding like the mixture of a sob and a keen on his lips as his nails dig hard into Yifan’s back.

Yifan climaxes with a drawn out grunt after a few more shallow thrusts, his chest pressed close to Yixing’s and one hand beneath Yixing’s back, holding the smaller body close to his. Or his own body close to Yixing’s, it’s really not possible to tell.

After he has milked himself dry, they both still, Yifan collapsing on top of Yixing, but the smaller doesn’t mind. Quite the opposite; Yixing buries his nose in the crook of Yifan’s neck and takes a shaky breath, inhaling the other’s scent. It’s musky, an unmistakable scent of sex clinging to both of them, but there’s also that distinctly _Yifan_ touch below all these overlaying smells, and it makes something untangle within Yixing. He forgets all about where they are, all the things that have been weighing him down as of lately. Right then all that he cares about is Yifan’s warm skin pressed close to his, their ribcages moving in sync as they try to catch their breath.

They’re sticky and sweaty, but neither of them wants to move to clean up. Yifan just shifts slightly so that he’s only half lying on Yixing’s chest, his legs tangled with Yixing’s and his arms wound tightly around the other’s torso. Yixing reciprocates by throwing his arms over Yifan’s shoulder, holding the other tight as well. He doesn’t want to ever let go again.

Right before he drifts off to sleep he wonders when his motives for helping Yifan shifted from selflessness to selfishness.

 

\---

 

When Yixing wakes up the next morning, something is off. He can’t quite put his finger onto it, but something is different from his normal mornings.

 _It’s bright outside but I can’t hear my alarm clock_. Is the first thing that comes to his mind. Only then do the other impressions catch up, and he notices the smell of the room, and the feeling of both fabric and warm skin directly against his own skin.

His eyes fly open at the realization that he’s naked, with another body pressed against his and on top of that he is certainly not in his own home.

He is greeted by white, all around him. Sterile white walls, a white ceiling and white linen. When he turns his head he sees white-blond hair and suddenly everything clicks, the memories of the previous day (and night) coming back, effectively dispersing his sleepy sense of disorientation.

Yifan still seems to be fast asleep on top of Yixing’s chest, and something about the sight stops the younger’s panicking. The taller looks so at peace like this, that Yixing can’t even be bothered by the fact that Yifan’s breathing fans across his neck at times.

He raises one hand to gently run his fingers through the elder’s hair—a gesture he finds himself doing quite often as of lately—and Yifan sighs contently in his sleep. A fond smile grazes Yixing’s features and suddenly it’s only them again in their own little world. That is until Yixing hears a knock on the door and his heart drops into his gut because suddenly he remembers what a compromising position they are in, and that they are in a room in the hospital. A hospital where quite a few nurses should be roaming the hallways already at this time in the morning.

A thousand thoughts run through his mind, most of them concerned with how he could possibly get out of this position as discreetly as possible, with as few people noticing as he can manage. His clothes are still strewn across the floor. If he wakes Yifan up and they both get dressed Yixing can slip out and claim that he stayed longer after the night shift because Yifan couldn’t sleep and so Yixing offered to keep him company and—

His brain comes to an abrupt stop when the door handle is pushed down, and the door swings open with a croak. “Now now, Fanfan, why would you close the door on us? It’s time for—“ Jongdae enters the room, chatting away happily—and none too quietly—and freezes as soon as his eyes meet Yixing’s.

The younger looks downright shell-shocked, as if his brain can’t quite catch up to the sight. His eyes shortly dart down, taking in the clothes strewn on the floor and then back up to where Yifan has started to stir in his position on Yixing’s chest.

Yixing is pretty sure that his own face is about as red as Jongdae’s, which is pretty red, and the shocked nurse turns around and closes the door, probably to prevent the rest of the hospital staff from catching a view of Yifan and Yixing as well.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…intrude, I guess. Gosh. I mean, I didn’t know there was something _to_ intrude on in the first place, but—yes, no, I’m sorry,” he rambles, shock having made way to embarrassment as far as Yixing can tell.

It’s in that moment that Yifan wakes up, looking at Yixing in puzzlement at first—pretty much the same confusion present on his features that Yixing himself experienced upon waking—but his expression quickly changes into one of realization before his eyes widen in shock.

A small voice inside Yixing’s head joyously notes that Yifan is back to being normal, for now at least, but the joy is short-lived before the situation they’re currently in demands his full attention again.

Yifan’s head whips around to look at Jongdae, who’s still muttering senselessly—mostly to himself—and then the elder tries to create distance between him and Yixing by rolling off the smaller’s body.

The only problem is that the hospital beds aren’t made for accommodating more than one person, and in their current position Yifan sadly doesn’t have any room to move into.

Yixing notices the movement in the last minute, his hand immediately darting out to grab Yifan’s arm. “Watch out—!” his warning is cut off when he has to prevent Yifan’s body weight from slipping off the mattress. Instead the elder falls back into the position he started in, lying half on top of Yixing.

Jongdae, alerted by the noises and Yixing’s voice turns to throw a glance over his shoulder, but at the sight of naked skin he immediately faces away from them again, being startled back into motion. “I’m—I’ll—” he clears his throat, “I better go.”

And just like that, the younger is out of the door, leaving behind an awkward silence.

Yixing looks at the door for a moment, brain still trying to process what just happened. Only when Yifan shifts on his chest does Yixing’s gaze wander down to the other male, and they both still when their eyes meet.

It’s the moment between one breath and the next where they look at each other, as if they share some sort of understanding. Then their proximity registers with Yixing—and their equal state of undress—and embarrassment drives a blush to his cheeks.

Yifan flushes in a similar manner, and they avert their gazes as the same time. Simultaneously Yifan sits up—successfully this time as he takes limited space available into account, swinging his legs to dangle from the side of the bed, his back facing Yixing. With the other no longer pinning down his body, the younger mirrors the movement, turning to sit on his side of the bed as well.

“I should go after Jongdae,” Yixing eventually says when the silence gets too much to bear, and stands up to gather his clothes and get dressed. The small surge of pain that shoots up his back is unexpected, and he gasps in surprise as he stumbles a little, but he catches himself quickly enough. The reminder of the night’s activities lets his cheeks burn even more—if that’s even possible.

He considers quickly healing himself, but when he collects his clothing off the floor he discovers that walking itself isn’t that difficult. Only bending down is a movement his back doesn’t seem to like.

Somehow Yixing manages to get dressed in record time nonetheless. Yifan remains silent throughout the whole time, and from the lack of other noises in the room but his own dressing Yixing reasons that the other is motionless as well.

“I’ll… see you around,” Yixing awkwardly says by means of taking his leave, and he only casts a passing glance at the blond before he is out of the door.

 _See you around? Really_?! Yixing feels the urgent need to either claw off his face in embarrassment or to cry in frustration. _Well, I guess things couldn’t have gotten much more awkward than that_.

Refusing to let himself be consumed by the regrets concerning the proceedings of the morning, Yixing instead squares his shoulders as he rushes down the hallway to look for Jongdae. There are a ton of things that need an explanation, and even though Yixing isn’t even sure whether he himself knows what exactly has happened between him and Yifan, he doesn’t hesitate to grab Jongdae by the wrist to draw him through the first door that comes into view.

The nurse lets out a surprised grunt, but doesn’t resist the pull. They end up crowded closely together in one of the supply rooms, but the space is well enough for Yixing’s purpose. After all it offers the privacy the elder was looking for.

 _It’s not what it looks like_ is at the tip of his tongue, but he swallows the words down. They aren’t in school anymore. Of course it’s exactly what it looked like. Clothes strewn all over the floor, him cuddling with Yifan in bed—there is only one conclusion Jongdae can have drawn from the sight and it is the correct one.

Yixing frantically grapples for the right words to explain the situation in a reasonable way, but in his flustered rush to justify the sight Jongdae had walked in on the half-sentences he starts don’t even make sense to his own ears. Jongdae simply waits until Yixing grows silent all by himself, shutting his mouth in the hope of sorting his thoughts out before he attempts again. When the elder looks up at the nurse, he sees that the other’s expression has shifted from being embarrassed to a smug-looking half smirk.

“So, you and Fanfan, huh?” Jongdae says, a teasing lilt to his voice, and Yixing thinks about how he should have seen this coming. The other’s behaviour back in Yifan’s room had been highly untypical either way. Jongdae is a jokester by nature, and it takes a lot to throw him off-track. Seeing his coworker in bed with a patient apparently does fulfill the criteria.

Now, however, the younger seems to have returned to his usual mischievousness again, if the glimmer in his eyes is anything to go by. “I mean, not as if I didn’t see it coming with how much time the two of you have been spending together,” the younger continues, taking obvious delight in seeing the colour of Yixing’s cheeks darken. “Some handsome lover you got yourself there.”

Yixing splutters, trying to say something, anything at all when he doesn’t even know if he should deny Jongdae’s words, and if yes, which part exactly. “It’s not what you think it is,” he eventually blurts out, and it’s only slightly better than having said _It’s not what it looks like_.

But Jongdae doesn’t dwell on the empty phrase, instead raising one eyebrow. “So you only decided to … ‘release a bit of tension’ together? No strings attached?”

“Wha—we— _no_! I-I mean—“ Yixing stutters and curses himself for how his own language is refusing to cooperate. Taking a deep breath, he admits, “I don’t know.”

“Hey, I won’t judge you or anything. You two have fun.” He declares, a lopsided smile on his features and his hands raised to showcase harmlessness. “But just so you know, I won’t be changing Yifan’s sheets anymore. If the both of you want to create a mess you will have to take care of cleaning it up yourself as well.”

“Jongdae!” Yixing means to sound reprimanding with a touch of indignation, but his voice comes out as a cross between a gasp and a whine instead.

The elder wishes the ground would just swallow him whole. He didn’t ever expect he’d have to have such a conversation with a _coworker_ , but he reasons that out of everyone who could have walked in on them, Jongdae is still the best option. Junmyeon would probably have had an heart attack on the spot. The mere thought of _his boss_ discovering him and Yifan like that already makes Yixing cringe. Taking a deep breath the healer composes himself.

“Can you please keep this to yourself?” He looks at Jongdae imploringly. “At least until Yifan and I have sorted things out between the two of us.”

Something in Jongdae’s face softens, and the teasing edge slips from his demeanour. “You don’t even need to ask, of course I will. And there’s also no need to explain yourself to me or anything. This is your business. I want you to be happy.”

“Thanks,” Yixing says, returning the younger’s gentle smile and suddenly a sense of calmness settles in his bones.

“Just, please be careful,” the nurse continues, taking a step closer to place his hand on Yixing’s upper arm. “There’s probably no one here who knows Yifan’s situation better than you do. Just take care that you know what you’re getting yourself into. I really don’t want to see you hurt in the end.”

The words remind Yixing of what Luhan told him a while back, when they sat in the kitchen together over a cup of green tea in the middle of the night. Now these words might be truer than ever, Yixing muses, but he feels as if it’s already too late for him to pull himself out.

 

\---

 

Yixing restrains himself from going to see Yifan for the whole morning, and some part of the noon, instead busying himself with his usual string of patients. While he’s healing, his mind is focused on the task at hand, but in between patients it inevitably strays.

He mentally goes through a million possible scenarios of how to approach Yifan, what to say, what to do. First and foremost he debates with himself what the last night meant.

When he went along with Yifan’s touches the previous night he at first still told himself that he was doing it for Yifan’s sake, that he was letting the elder have an outlet when he seemed to need one. That is a delusion he couldn’t hold onto for long however. There is something about Yifan that makes Yixing’s heart pick up its pace, that draws him to the blond and has him lose sleep at night. He has seen the other as attractive right from the beginning, but he never allowed himself to follow that train of thought.

Now he doesn’t have any choice but to consider it.

And yet Yixing feels wholly unprepared when he heads for Yifan’s room. Despite having spent the whole time since the morning thinking about what to say, his head is blown empty the moment he tentatively steps through the door frame, pulling the door shut behind him.

Yifan is sitting on his bed, legs folded beneath him and a sketch pad in his hands. When he looks up and spots Yixing, a hint of surprise flashes in his eyes and he immediately stops working, instead scrambling to put his drawing utensils away to face the healer.

“Hey,” Yixing greets the blond, an uncertain smile playing on his lips. Usually Yixing would have dropped by Yifan in time for lunch or something already, but they haven’t seen each other at all since the morning.

“Hey,” Yifan replies, looking as unsure about what to do as Yixing’s feeling.

Awkward silence follows where Yixing simply stands there, debating on whether he should stay at the door to talk, or move into the room. Sit on Yifan’s bed or on a chair beside it?

 _What are we? Teenagers?_ he mentally scolds himself, because he knows he’s acting ridiculous. They both are.

He heaves a sigh that he hopes is too silent for the other to hear, before lifting his gaze to fully face the other male. “We need to talk.”

Yifan nods, and scoots a bit back on his bed, a clear invitation for Yixing to join him.

“So…,” Yixing starts as soon as he has taken a seat opposite of the elder, his legs crossed to mirror Yifan’s position, but his voice trails off. The words still refuse to form an order in his mind that sounds even remotely eloquent, but Yifan stays silent, so Yixing decides to just cut right to the chase. “So did it… mean something? Or was it a one time thing?”

Yifan looks slightly uncomfortable, fidgeting with his hands in his lap and avoiding looking directly at Yixing, rather focusing on a point somewhere at Yixing’s feet.

“I—” the elder starts, before halting as if to sort his thoughts again. “I’m sorry for yesterday.”

The words make something cold shoot through Yixing’s veins, something akin to shock and the pain of rejection. _Ah, so you did want it to mean something_ , his brain unhelpfully supplies.

 _You don’t need to apologize_ , he wants to say. _You didn’t force yourself onto me or anything_ , but the words get stuck in his throat.

When he doesn’t reply Yifan eventually looks up. There must be something in Yixing’s expression that gives the dejection he’s feeling away because Yifan’s eyes widen in shock. “No, that’s not what I meant by that! I don’t mean that I regret it or anything. It _did_ mean something to me!” He exclaims, waving his arms frantically around as if the gesture helps with getting his message across. “It meant way too much.” He adds more silently, letting his arms fall down to his sides again.

“…Too much?” Yixing echoes, tilting his head slightly to the side in confusion.

This time it’s Yifan’s turn to heave a sigh. “I didn’t want you to know. But yesterday—I simply couldn’t stop myself anymore. You were there…”

And that’s when it clicks with Yixing. The nervous gesture, the avoidance of direct eye contact—Yifan isn’t trying to figure out how to tell Yixing it was a one time thing, he’s simply being insecure.

All of a sudden Yixing loses all of his own nervousness. It’s strange but the knowledge that Yifan isn’t going to tell him that he was just an outlet for tension, that he was nothing more than a random person who was available at the right time, lifts the weight that has been pressing down on his chest. _Does that mean Yifan feels something as well_?

With newfound resolution, Yixing scoots forward, making Yifan look up in surprise at the sudden proximity. Where before there was the whole length of the bed between them, they aren’t even an arm’s length away from each other now. If Yixing wanted to, he could have splayed his hand against Yifan’s cheek from this position, but he refrains himself from doing so.

“I don’t regret it either, Yifan. It just makes me wonder…”

Caution flashes through Yifan’s eyes, together with a weakly concealed glimmer of hope. The elder watches Yixing expectantly, waiting for the other to continue. “What are we?” the younger asks, looking questioningly at Yifan. “I mean, are we even something?”

For a moment Yifan looks conflicted, as if he wants to answer but something is stopping him from voicing it. “I want us to be something,” he eventually admits, and it sounds as if it took him a lot of strength to say so. An unvoiced “but” is hanging in the air between them as Yifan breaks eye contact, fumbling with his fingers again before he continues. “But you deserve someone better than me who can’t even leave this building.”

Yixing is rendered speechless for a moment. Yifan never showed any signs of being this insecure about the limits the absence of his powers put on him. On bad days he doesn’t seem to care about pretty much anything or anyone around him, and on the good days he usually grins with optimism.

Sure, Yifan hasn’t set foot out of the hospital building since he was admitted because if even the sight of the scenery from his window can already trigger bad episodes, neither of them wanted to find out what a trip outside might result in. It has never once made Yixing think poorly of Yifan, however. Then again they never talked about anything like this, so perhaps Yifan simply doesn’t know that.

“But I don’t want someone else,” the younger silently says, gently taking hold of Yifan’s chin to move the other’s head up, forcing him to meet Yixing’s eyes. “I also want _us_ to be something.”

Without waiting for Yifan’s reaction he leans forward, deciding that he’s been hesitant and in denial for long enough. Their lips meet half-way, meaning that Yifan has leaned in as well. The kiss feels as if it’s their first one, all slow, tentative and cautious, gentle and full of unvoiced emotions.

Yixing wonders when exactly he fell for Yifan, and when the elder fell for him, but he can’t help feeling that he has found the person he’s meant to be with, in the unlikely surroundings of a hospital.

 

\---

 

They both decide that the “something” they want to be is called “dating,” or at least in the beginning, before they think about calling it a “relationship”.

It is a weird concept, Yixing muses as he spends longer than usual getting ready in the morning, to “date” Yifan, who’s technically still a patient of his and living at his work place. After he messes up his hair for the fifth time just to brush it down and start over again he heaves a sigh and shakes his head at his own ridiculousness. _There’s no need to fuzz about this more than usual, nothing has really changed_.

Except that things _have_ changed, against Yixing’s initial beliefs. It’s not so much about the amount of time he spends with Yifan, or the routine in their everyday life. Rather it’s the way Yifan smiles at Yixing with unrestrained fondness, and Yixing finally notices how much the sight makes his heartbeat pick up, now that he no longer has to stay in denial.

It’s the way they gravitate towards each other, even more so than before, brushing their hands together or pressing soft kisses to foreheads and temples. They go on “dates” too, which essentially means them meeting up all over the hospital; in the staff room, the break room, the hospital’s cafeteria, even in other empty rooms that aren’t Yifan’s. The elder claims that it makes their dates more realistic. After all he can’t have Yixing come to his “home” all the time when they have only just started dating.

“We’ll only end up in bed all the time whenever you come over,” the elder jokes with a lopsided grin, and it has Yixing answer with a roll of his eyes.

“That’s because your bed is the only remotely comfortable seat in your room.”

“No, Xing, it’s because I’m irresistible,” Yifan retorts, and he looks so smugly pleased with himself that Yixing leans in to shut him up with a kiss—of course rolling his eyes again, just for good measure.

“Perhaps,” he acquiesces, in favour of connecting their lips again and is very pleased when Yifan doesn’t feel the need to say anything else, instead splaying his hands against Yixing’s hips.

 _Okay, perhaps he’s right about the ending in bed thing_.

 

\---

 

It’s been an inside joke between the staff members since forever that it is only a question of time until Yixing would move into the hospital. He’s been known for notoriously working overtime, staying later than most and usually coming in earlier as well.

He, just as anyone else, would have never thought that that would really happen one day though.

But it is probably the most accurate description, that Yixing has essentially moved in. In the first two weeks he still goes home regularly, but as weeks go by he finds that he spends way more nights at the hospital, curled together with Yifan in the elder’s hospital bed.

Knowing what it’s like to have a warm chest to rest his head on, and to smell the comforting scent of the blond, Yixing’s own bed turns out to simply be too cold, too big and too lonely. There’s really nothing appealing about it, and so Yixing only returns to his flat to get fresh clothes, or to tend to his plants, before going back to the hospital in time for the night.

During his free afternoons, if they aren’t on a “date”, they have established the habit of just sitting together to read. Yifan has been reading a lot, reading and drawing to be exact, in order to busy himself with something, and Yixing has brought the elder enough novels to fill the small cupboard by his bedside and a shelf in the staff room. Yixing enjoys their reading sessions, a lot. It means that they’re both huddled up to one another, Yixing sitting half on Yifan’s lap, the blond’s long arms around his shoulders, holding a book up in front of both of them.

The smaller can bask in their proximity, the soothing baritone of Yifan’s voice in his ear as he feels every word the elder speaks as a soft vibration against his back. More often than not Yixing falls asleep against the comfortable warmth of Yifan’s chest, but the elder never complains about it. On the contrary, usually when Yixing wakes up again the elder is still reading, but he has shifted so that the younger can rest more comfortably.

For every apology Yixing voices about having fallen asleep in the middle of the story he gets a soft kiss pressed into his hair or on his lips. It’s really all the more reason for Yixing to not resist sleep when it claims him, and to keep on apologizing even when the elder says there’s no need at all to apologize.

But as elated as Yixing feels about dating Yifan, he can’t stop reality from crashing down on him regularly.

The first reminder comes in the form of Junmyeon.

The hospital owner doesn’t tell Yixing anything about relationships between members of the staff and patients being forbidden, or how there should be “no sex at the workplace”—which, Yixing realizes in embarrassment, fits for him and Yifan in the most literal sense. No, Junmyeon doesn’t talk to Yixing from an employer’s perspective, but rather as a worried friend, and perhaps that’s even worse.

He uses similar sentences to the ones both Jongdae and Luhan have used already, and the healer would assume that they had conferred, if he hadn’t been asking himself similar questions as well. “Are you sure about this?” the elder eventually concludes with serious eyes after having told Yixing to be careful, to remember Yifan’s condition and that they haven’t been able to help the blond any so far.

“I am,” Yixing says.

What he means is _I care about him too much already either way_.

The second reminder comes in the form of Yifan having bad days.

They proceed a little different than they did before Yifan and Yixing started dating because unlike earlier, where he’d just sit at Yifan’s bedside to talk to him for hours on end, Yixing now worms his way under the blankets beside Yifan. He still talks to him in a hushed voice, but in addition to that he also runs his fingers through the elder’s hair, presses soothing kisses against his cheek or simply winds his arms around the other in a hug. Just reassuring Yifan that he’s not alone in this, that Yixing is there with him.

Or perhaps he’s just reminding Yifan that there is a reason why he isn’t allowed to let himself be consumed by the desire to fly.

Without any exception, they always fall asleep together when Yifan has bad days because Yixing would never dare to leave the other alone like that.

 

\---

 

It's in the dead of the night, when they lie together like this, that Yifan's whisper cuts through the room.

"Sometimes I wish to go to the highest mountain, or highest building I can find, and jump down from it," he whispers into soft brown hair, the confession of a secret under the protective veil of darkness.

Yixing shivers at his words, wishing that Yifan doesn’t notice the motion, but he's pressed infinitely close to the taller’s body; there is no way Yifan doesn't catch it.

"I wonder if my powers just need the right... incentive, so to speak. A kick-start," Yifan continues as Yixing stays silent. His arms tighten around the younger and when he starts talking again, his voice almost sounds detached. "And sometimes I wonder if it doesn't matter if my powers would reappear or not. At least I would get to fly one last time."

There is this longing, this melancholy in Yifan's voice, and it cuts right through Yixing's heart because it painfully reminds him of the words he has been trying to forget. He clenches his eyes shut, as if that way he could stay in denial, pretend Yifan is perfectly fine, perfectly happy, not broken.

He feels as if his hands should leave bruises on Yifan's back for how desperately he holds on, how deeply he digs them into the taller's skin. It's almost impossible for Yixing to press himself even closer to the elder's chest, but he does, nose pressing against Yifan's collarbones.

It takes him a few, embarrassingly shuddering breaths to collect himself, to keep the guilt at being unable to help Yifan at bay. "I am sorry," he eventually says because he feels the need to say _something_ , but he honestly can't think of anything better.

Yifan exhales, and the younger feels it as a gust of air brushing over his hair.

"Me too," he whispers.

 

\---

 

Yixing has been putting off talking about it and he knows it. Two whole months have passed since he discovered the book, and if Yifan has noticed how Yixing has stopped looking for methods to heal him just as intently, he hasn’t said anything about it.

In a way, Yixing regrets keeping his findings from Yifan, for multiple reasons. For one a secret gets harder to reveal the longer it is kept, and on top of that the healer can’t help wondering whether Yifan might have had a better chance at improving his condition if he knew _what_ it is that he is fighting.

So one afternoon he gathers all his courage. Usually Yixing humours Yifan, meeting up with taller wherever he wants, but this afternoon he insists on them staying in Yifan’s room. The elder looks at him a bit worried when Yixing is adamant, but agrees without questioning the healer’s motives nonetheless.

They end up on Yifan’s bed—of course they do—sitting beside each other with their backs up against the headboard. In the silence of the room Yixing busies himself with playing with the blond’s hand, and Yifan lets him, concluding that there must be something on Yixing’s mind.

“I have to tell you something,” Yixing eventually pipes up, and he feels Yifan tense immediately. Turning so he can face the other he grips his hand tighter, in a way that’s supposed to be reassuring. “It’s not about _us_ , I don’t want to break up or anything. I’m happy about being with you, I really am.”

Yifan’s features soften, the look of fondness the younger has gotten used to creeping into the other’s eyes. Looking at it is almost too hard for what Yixing has to say next, but he doesn’t allow himself to face away.

He’s feeling guilty for keeping Yifan in the dark, and he has to let the other know that he didn’t do it with malicious intent, that he knows he is in the wrong for keeping something that concerns Yifan from the male himself.

“What I have to tell you…,” he starts again, taking a deep breath to steel himself for what he’s about to say. Or rather for Yifan’s reaction. “…is about you.”

The elder looks at him with a raised eyebrow, but Yixing can feel the tension that had just dissipated from the taller’s body seep back in. Yixing expected as much—there is pretty much only one topic that the healer could possibly have to talk about that is concerning _Yifan_ , but not related to their relationship.

Seeing how Yifan visibly fights the uncertainty, forcedly keeping his eyes from becoming guarded, Yixing feels his stomach flip, in a way that makes him feel slightly sick. The other is trusting him, and he’s willing to listen to what Yixing has to say no matter how little he might want to deal with his own state. It should make Yixing feel better to see that the other trusts him so much but it only ends up making him feel worse.

He’s caught between sidling closer to Yifan, to use his physical presence as anchor, or creating more distance between them, pulling away so that he doesn’t force his proximity on Yifan if the elder should not want it anymore after the things Yixing has to confess.

It’s a short inner turmoil but he’s still very reluctant when he has to let go of Yifan’s hand. Just to make sure that the elder doesn’t doubt that Yixing was being serious when he said that he didn’t have any second-thoughts about their relationship he gives it a tight squeeze before retracting his fingers.

Yifan looks at him with visible confusion painted on his features nonetheless when Yixing breaks their physical contact, but the younger resists the urge to resume their old position, instead sitting up properly with his legs folded beneath him, facing Yifan. The blond sits up a little straighter as well, his features drawn into the hint of a thoughtful frown. He musters Yixing with a gaze that the younger can’t quite decipher.

“I’m sorry.” Yixing feels as if apologizing is all he has been doing as of lately for how familiar the words feel on his tongue. “I should have told you about this earlier, and it was stupid of me not to. This is about you, and therefore you, out of all people, have a right to know. I was just scared how you would react to it, and perhaps I was in denial, because if no one but me knew about it I could pretend it’s not true, or not there, and just-“

He knows he’s rambling, and that he’s still avoiding getting to the point, but his mouth is simply running away with him as if his brain is still trying to put off having to tell Yifan about the madness that stems from the void.

It’s the taller’s hand, gently placed on his forearm that gets him to shut up and stop the meaningless torrent of words falling from his mouth. “It’s okay Yixing. You don’t need to apologize, just tell me,” he says. Yifan looks strangely composed, as if the brunette’s nervousness has made him become calmer.

The situation is all wrong, Yixing muses. He is supposed to be the calm one, the strong one for Yifan to lean on, not the other way round. He should support the other, not be the one who is supported—and yet, the touch is comforting, and forces the healer’s thoughts to realign in a way that makes sense.

“A while ago, I found a book,” he starts anew, this time with a serious expression and unwavering eyes, even though he still tries to keep his expression soft. “A book about power wielders, and for the most part it just contains all the information that you can find in any arbitrary book, which isn’t much. But there was one chapter about, let’s say, ‘ _tampering_ ’ with powers.”

He studies Yifan to look for his reaction, but the taller just keeps on watching him intently, urging him to go on with a slight nod. The words feel like sandpaper in his throat but he forces them out.

“The book also talked about the void you described to me. To be exact, it stated that in all known cases, taking someone’s powers is tantamount to taking a piece of their self, and that sooner or later it drives the person who lost their power into madness.” Unable to face Yifan any longer, Yixing averts his eyes before telling the other of the last detail in a silent voice. “There are no known survivors because when the pull got too strong, they all eventually committed suicide.”

Silence follows his words, and Yixing studies Yifan’s hands, as if they would reveal what the other is thinking, how he’s taking the information, without having to actually look him in the face. But Yifan remains completely unmoving, and Yixing hears his own heartbeat loudly pounding in his ears from how tense he is.

When he has yet to gain a reaction from the other, Yixing dares lifting his gaze to meet Yifan’s eyes. It almost seems as if he was waiting for Yixing to make eye-contact because as soon as the healer’s facing him, he lets out a soft “Oh.”

The sound trails off, and Yifan looks utterly lost for a moment, too many emotions reflected in his grey eyes for Yixing to be able to decipher them. It is quite some information to take in, the healer understands that.

“And it’s just some book, it’s not the ultimate truth. Just because it’s written there like that doesn’t mean that it _has_ to happen like that. It was explicitly stated that there could be exceptions,” the younger is quick to reassure, feeling the need to make his previous statements sound less final, less unforgiving.

“Yixing,” the elder says, making the healer shut up once more. “It’s okay. You don’t need to worry.”

The words don’t make any sense to Yixing, because why is Yifan the one telling him? Shouldn’t the words come from his mouth? He’s even more surprised when suddenly there are hands grabbing him, drawing him forward against Yifan’s chest before arms circle around his waist to hold him close.

“These are just books, and words. I’m not gonna be like that,” Yifan’s voice comes from right above his ear, and only then does Yixing realize that there are tears swimming in his eyes.

 _Stupid_ , he scolds himself, because he had promised himself to not show any such weaknesses in front of Yifan. _Just talking about it isn’t allowed to overwhelm me like that_.

He promises himself in that moment to not cry about Yifan’s situation because tears don’t change anything. On the contrary, they might put more pressure on Yifan, and that’s the last thing Yixing could want. It doesn’t change the fact though that Yixing allows himself to hug Yifan back tightly in that moment, his hands gripping even tighter when he feels how shaky Yifan’s hands on his back are.

“Yes, sometimes the longing is almost too much, and I feel as if I can’t think straight anymore because of it. It’s hard to resist, tiring, but I won’t be like those who aren’t able to live with the void. I’m stronger than that,” Yifan continues, and towards the end Yixing can’t tell whether the words are directed at him or if the elder’s telling them to himself. “I don’t want to die, Yixing, so I’ll fight to stay alive.”

 _Yes_. Yixing thinks, because he doesn’t trust his vocal chords. _You have to fight it. And I’ll be here to help you with that_.

Instead of answering anything, Yixing just presses himself closer to Yifan, feeling relieved despite everything.

 _There is hope_.

 

\---

 

Yifan is the one to first suggest it, taking Yixing off-guard.

“I can’t be cooped up here forever.” He explains when the brunette looks at him with wide eyes. “Better try to get used to the outside world again.”

It is a reasonable proposition, Yixing reasons, so he nods, even though something settles in the pit of his stomach at the thought of taking Yifan outside that could either be just nervousness or plain fear. They have their reasons for keeping Yifan inside, the sight of the open sky over his head perhaps too tempting, but Yixing reasons it’s not his place to decide.

He cautions Yifan, tells him that they’ll only take this in slow steps, and as soon as it gets too much, too painful, they’ll immediately return to the hospital. The elder listens to all of Yixing’s concerns diligently before gently placing his hand against Yixing’s cheek.

The brunette leans into the touch by reflex, and marvels a little at how Yifan’s hand can cover almost half his face. “I’ll be fine, Xing,” he says, but Yixing still catches the glimmer of insecurity in his eyes. Yifan is trying to put on a strong front so that the smaller won’t worry, but Yixing doesn’t call him out on it.

It isn’t _fine_ , of course. The closer they get to the entrance doors of the hospital the more Yifan tenses, but when Yixing asks him whether he wants to stop the other vehemently denies, insisting on them continuing.

The moment they step outside, Yifan’s gaze immediately wanders up, towards the sky, as if it’s the only motion he’s capable off. It’s night, and out in the rural area of the hospital the sky is a vast, dark blue cloth dotted with millions of stars. It’s quite the beautiful sight, as would be the fascination on Yifan’s face, if Yixing didn’t know everything he did.

He’s never before seen Yifan look like this, fascination, admiration and elation swimming together in his eyes. But he also sees the longing, the blond’s mouth half open as if he is caught in the middle of a sentence, but the sight has made the rest of it get stuck in his throat.

They are outside for less than five minute before Yifan suddenly grits his teeth together and closes his eyes, hurrying back to the hospital doors with Yixing right on his heels. The elder walks until the entrance doors have disappeared from their sight, then he slumps against a wall and slides down onto the floor. His eyes clenched shut he fists his hands into his own shirt. When Yixing bends down, worried beyond words that this was a mistake and they just worsened Yifan’s condition, he can hear the other’s heavy breathing, as if he just ran a marathon.

He automatically falls into his usual routine of soothing Yifan through one of his fits, calming words and touches and easing the other back out from the world where there’s nothing but him and the void. Yifan calms down quicker than he usually does, assuring the younger that he’s okay, even when the hands that grab Yixing’s arms are still shaking and Yifan is visibly fighting to control his breathing.

Nonetheless, Yifan insists that they keep on trying, and Yixing has no other choice but to go along with it. Going outside with Yifan is dangerous, and Yixing knows, but it gets better, bit by bit. After a week they’re at the point where they can take short walks without Yifan being triggered too badly, but that doesn’t mean the other enjoys the time outside. It’s a visible strain on him, Yixing can tell. As soon as they leave the building, the taller falls silent, as if he’s in deep concentration. Yixing makes up for that by talking a mile a minute, about everything and anything, really, even if the other stops responding.

Anything to keep Yifan’s mind occupied.

He holds Yifan's hand in a tight grip, tighter than what must be comfortable, but Yifan reciprocates, gripping Yixing’s hand just as hard.

 _Don't long for the sky_ , Yixing wants to tell him with his touch. _Don't long to go somewhere I can't follow you. Stay here on the ground with me_.

 

\---

 

Yixing rarely spends afternoons outside the hospital—not counting the short walks he regularly takes with Yifan now—but Luhan whined on the phone for so long about Yixing only ever spending time with his boyfriend now and neglecting his friend in the progress that Yixing agreed to meet the other in a small café in the city. It’s a welcome change to seeing the same white hallways all day, Yixing has to admit. He can’t stop his mind from wandering back to Yifan though, wondering how the other is doing. The elder has been cooped up at the hospital for months, with no change of scenery, and their walks can hardly be considered as a proper change of environment.

Luhan seems to be in a good mood when Yixing meets him, but then again he has rarely seen the other not in a good mood. They spend the whole afternoon sitting together and talking over cups of hot tea (“I can’t drink any coffee that’s not been made by Minseok anymore.” Luhan claims when Yixing eyes him in surprise after they placed their orders). The time goes by quicker than Yixing would have thought, even despite the fact that he spends approximately half the time blushing in embarrasment when Luhan questions him about his and Yifan’s relationship. He’s surprised when it’s Luhan who jumps up in panic after looking at his clock, announcing that they have to head to the hospital because he promised Minseok he would pick him up from work.

So they walk back together, and Yixing wonders if he’s only imagining the grins that Luhan seems to barely be able to suppress. He arches a questioning eyebrow at the elder when they pass the hospital’s entrance doors, but Luhan simply waives his concerns aside. The giggle he lets out while doing so doesn’t exactly make him more trustworthy however.

When they part at the nursing station with a hug, Luhan leans in to whisper into his ear, “Let him get some, he went to great lengths for today.”

Yixing wants to ask Luhan what the heck the elder is trying to tell him, but before he can even open his mouth Luhan has already gripped Minseok’s arm and dragged the nurse away with him. For a moment the healer is left dumbfounded, standing in the middle of the hallway trying to make sense of his friend’s parting message. _Him_ must be Yifan—because whom else would Yixing possibly allow to “get some”—but it’s the second part that doesn’t make any sense.

He wracks his brain, trying to remember whether anything special has been planned for the day that he forgot about, but he draws a blank. Figuring that it must have been Luhan’s overzealousness (and perhaps one too many cups of green tea—the elder seemed to forget that tea contained caffeine as well), Yixing decides to not pay the honey-blond’s words too much mind.

But when he enters Yifan’s room, he finds it deserted, making him stop in his tracks. His face pulls into a contemplative frown, and the feeling that something is going on solidifies. When he looks at their other usual meet-up places, just to find them empty as well, he can’t help the faint feeling of fear creeping into his bones. His only consolation is that Luhan apparently knows whatever the reason for Yifan’s disappearance is, and that he seems to be excited and not worried about it.

“Yixing? You’re still here?” Jongdae asks as he passes by the healer in the hallway. Going by his casual clothes the nurse is about to head home.

When he sees Yixing’s questioning gaze, a look of understanding hushes through his eyes, and his lips pull into a grin. “Ah, I see, Junmyeon must have forgotten to escort you. Don’t worry, I’ll take you, just follow me.”

“Excuse me, but what exactly is going on?” the elder asks as he falls into step beside Jongdae.

The nurse throws him a side-ways glance and grins again. “It’s a surprise. I mean, where would the fun be, otherwise?”

Even furrowing his eyebrows and whining for the other to stop being all secretive doesn’t get Jongdae to budge. They go all the way down in the direction of the staff room, but when Yixing is about to protest that he already looked there, Jongdae just shushes him and continues further down the hallway.

He stops in front of a door behind which the small, staff-member only kitchen is located. Yixing doesn’t think he’s ever been inside because he usually eats in the cafeteria or brings lunch from home, but he still knows that the room exists. “I made sure that you’re the only one on duty tonight, so you’ll have the hospital all to yourselves,” Jongdae informs him with a suggestive smile, before winking at him cheekily and adding, “Just the way you like it, of course. Have fun tonight.”

And just like Luhan, the younger doesn’t wait for Yixing’s answer. Within seconds he knocks on the door, flashes the brunette a thumbs up, and quickly dashes away, leaving a flustered Yixing behind. The healer is used to being teased about his relationship with Yifan by his friends, and they more often than not seem to be intent on making inappropriate comments, but there’s something about their common certainty that he will get laid that night—or rather be the one to initiate the laying, so to speak—that is frankly new.

The brunette doesn’t get the chance to contemplate for long however, because only seconds after Jongdae’s departure the door is opened, but only so far that Yifan can peek his head out. When he spots Yixing, a smile adorns his feature and he steps out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him until only a tiny slit of the inside remains visible.

“Hey,” Yifan greets, hair slightly disheveled, and being a little breathless, small drops of sweat on his forehead glistening in the glaring light of the hospital hallway.

And yet Yixing’s breath catches at the sight of his boyfriend. The other is wearing clothes Yixing’s never seen on him before, but _damn_ does Yifan look good in a plain white dress shirt and black pants. His hair, albeit ruffled, still retains the general style it was put into, and Yixing is suddenly acutely aware of his own worn out jeans and the black tank top he had blindly reached for in the cupboard in Yifan’s room that morning.

“Hey,” he answers with no eloquence whatsoever, and accepts the small hello kiss Yifan presses onto his lips, still dumbfounded. “I—” Looking Yifan up and down before casting his eyes to his own clothing, the only sentence he comes up with is, “I have no idea what’s going on but I think I’m severely underdressed.”

Yifan chuckles in response, before taking Yixing’s hand in his, lifting it up to place a gentle kiss on its back. “You look handsome, no need to worry. I just wanted to go the extra mile, so I had Junmyeon get me these clothes. How was your afternoon with Luhan?”

Startled by pretty much everything—the sight of Yifan looking so exceptionally dashing, his cheesily affectionate gestures, and the fact that he asked about how his meet up with Luhan went instead of finally explaining what’s up—Yixing simply answers with, “It was good. We talked a lot.”

“That’s great,” the elder replies, and underneath the smiles Yixing discovers a hint of nervousness that almost gives his expression a sheepish edge.

 _It’s cute_ , Yixing thinks, even without knowing what Yifan has planned to make him so nervous because he has been able to gather at least this much by then: Yifan must have planned something for the two of them, like some sort of special date.

“Can you close your eyes?”

Yixing does as he’s told. He hears the door opening, then there is a tug on his hand and he follows the lead. Stepping into the room he’s immediately assaulted by a plethora of fragrances, confirming his suspicions about why they had met up in front of the kitchen out of all places. Yifan leads him a bit into the room, before stopping and telling him to open his eyes.

He’s greeted by the sight of a table, laid with plates and cutlery and candles and flowers for decoration and Yixing’s breath gets caught in his throat for a second time that night. Turning to the taller with his mouth hanging open, an expression somewhere between disbelief and awe, he asks Yifan what this is all about.

“Well, I cooked dinner for you,” the blond shyly explains, gesturing a little towards the pots and pans on the stove.

“But why?” Yixing hopes the question doesn’t come out impolite, and he wonders whether he should at least have thanked the other first for the effort, but he simply can’t help himself. He’s come to realize that his mouth is quicker than his brain more often than not when he’s around Yifan.

“You don’t know what day it is today, right?” the elder asks, but he doesn’t sound accusing at all. That still doesn’t stop Yixing from being a bit hesitant when he shakes his head.

“It’s been exactly a month since we started dating,” Yifan explains, and Yixing’s eyes immediately widen, almost comically so.

 _Shit_. Is the first thing that shoots through his mind when he realizes that he hasn’t remembered the date at all. “I’m so sorry Yifan, I forgot.”

“It’s fine, you don’t need to worry,” the blond sounds as if he truly doesn’t mind, but Yixing still can’t help feeling guilty.

“But I don’t have anything for you…,” Yixing lets the words trail off as he wracks his mind whether there’s something he can still come up with on the spot, but he draws a blank.

“No, no, no, please don’t worry about it,” Yifan waves his hands in front of his body frantically, as if attempting to physically disperse the smaller’s concerns, before reaching out to take both of the brunette’s hands in his. “We never talked about whether we would celebrate such anniversaries, but I thought it would be a good opportunity for me to express my gratitude.”

Yifan’s eyes searched for Yixing’s before he continued speaking, holding the other’s gaze. “Thank you for all the things you put up with when it comes to me. I just want to repay you somehow, so I had Luhan distract you while I cooked a little something for you. It’s really not much, and I’m not that good of a cook, but do I get points for having tried at least?”

A slight blush is dusting the taller’s cheeks as he smiles insecurely, and Yixing thinks he’s never seen a more adorable sight. Since the words die in his throat, he leans up to answer Yifan with a kiss, and when he pulls back he has regained his voice. “You don’t have to repay me for anything, or feel as if you need to prove your gratitude.”

“I know,” Yifan replies, and this time his smile looks a lot more relaxed, as if suddenly he doesn’t worry about the taste of his food or Yixing’s reaction or anything else anymore. “But I want to. So just accept it and enjoy.”

Like hell the younger will refuse that request. He lets himself be led to the table by Yifan, and he can’t properly contain a surprised giggle from escaping him when the elder pulls out his chair for Yixing to have a seat, in the best gentlemanly manner.

He is served multiple courses, four in total to be exact, starting out with a soup, followed by a salad and finally a plate of Fettucine Alfredo.

The food is far from being haute-cuisine, but Yixing doesn’t care the least bit. It’s still delicious for all its simplicity, and the younger spends half the evening still in disbelief at the fact that Yifan prepared something like this.

They are sitting in the small kitchen of the hospital, but with the candlelight being the only source of illumination at one point, the rest of the room falls into darkness outside of their little circle of light, and Yixing feels as if they very well might have been at some restaurant, on a one-month-anniversary date like any ordinary couple.

Yixing enjoys himself a lot, talking with Yifan about all sorts of inconsequential topics, or marveling at the food (he might be losing himself a bit in exaggeration when he sees how easily flustered Yifan gets at compliments about his cooking). Their plates are empty after the main course, and the conversation has lulled down to a comfortable silence, their hands joined atop the table, when Yifan’s eyes suddenly start darting around the room.

Yixing gives the other’s fingers a gentle squeeze, lifting a questioning eyebrow once he catches the elder’s attention. In response Yifan heaves a little sigh, and returns the squeeze before retracting his hand and sitting up straight. Something in the air has changed, Yixing can tell that Yifan is about to approach a serious topic.

A part of him is reluctant, almost afraid concerning what the other could possibly want to talk about. He’s felt as if he’s in some kind of bubble for the evening, a bubble in which only he and Yifan exist and the outside world isn’t present.

“I know you’ve been wondering about what happened. Why I was burnt.” The elder looks fidgety, as if he’s forcing himself to keep going.

It’s the truth, Yixing has wanted to ask Yifan about his past, has wondered what left the other male in such a horrible state as he was in when Luhan found him out in the fields. But he knows that Yifan has many demons to face at night, and Yixing can’t stand the idea of being the one to force him to confront them in the daylight as well, so he chose to stay silent.

It’s the reason why his eyes widen now in shock, and why he holds his hands up as if the gesture could prevent the elder from speaking. “It’s okay, you don’t need to tell me. I understand if that’s something you don’t want to revisit.”

“Thanks, Xing,” Yifan looks grateful, and the affectionate nickname makes Yixing’s heart skip a beat and his cheeks burn, very much the way it always does. “I appreciate it that you’re not forcing me to talk. I appreciate it greatly. But you’re my boyfriend. We’ve been dating for a month and you've been taking care of me for much longer than that. I believe you have a right to know.”

At the resolution in Yifan’s voice, belying all the uncertainty in his posture, Yixing simply lets his hands sink down to rest on his thighs, before nodding to signal to the other that he’s listening.

“So, where do I start… I guess it’s a pretty clichéd story after all. And not all that interesting,” Yifan begins, and when the elder’s hands clench and unclench in nervousness on the table top, Yixing reaches out one of his own hands to hold Yifan’s, hoping to calm the other a little. Confronting his past mustn’t be easy for the blond, otherwise he wouldn’t have avoided talking about it for so long, so Yixing hopes to make this as easy as possible for the other. The gesture earns him a grateful smile.

“Who is responsible for your injuries?” the younger asks in a quiet voice, reasoning that it might be helpful to give Yifan a starting point instead of leaving him floating.

The elder visibly struggles to find the right words to start off, looking contemplative, before he slowly begins talking. “The boss of the gang I used to be part of.”

Yixing keeps his expression open, inviting Yifan to keep talking, no hint of surprise making it to the surface. He’s had a lot of time to imagine all kind of scenarios, so he doesn’t think anything Yifan tells him can possibly shock him.

The elder seems to relax a little when he doesn’t see any sign of rejection, of Yixing recoiling from where he’s touching Yifan, so he continues. “I could tell you the name of the gang, but it wouldn’t make any difference, really. All the gangs composed of power wielders are about the same, I guess. They’re all despicable.” There’s such a strong note of disdain in the elder’s voice that Yixing automatically tightens his hold, a reaction to sensing Yifan’s distress and wanting to bring the other back from the unpleasant memories.

“It all started when I was a teenager, perhaps around 14 years old. I got involved with the wrong crowd, and one thing somehow led to another. I really don’t want to get into the details because it’s too embarrassing. Let’s just say that I was young, naïve, and didn’t realize what I was getting myself into until I was already tangled up too bad to be able to simply escape. But I also couldn’t simply let things go on like that. At one point I knew I had to get away, or one day I’d be the next one they killed.”

The elder has a distant look in his eyes, as if he’s seeing the scene from back then and not Yixing and the hospital’s kitchen. A humorless smile hushes over his face as his eyes refocus on the smaller, and he shrugs his shoulder as if to indicate the place where his wounds were the worst. “I mean, not as if they didn’t try to kill me in the end either way. Honestly, to this day I’m not quite sure how I made it out of there alive. Because once you’re in, they obviously won’t let you get out just like that. You join such a gang for life, no matter how long or short _that_ might be.

“The boss was—is, most likely, a fire wielder. They somehow found out about me wanting to escape, but they were a second too late to catch me. Probably luck is the only reason why I’m still alive. He hit me with his fire—badly, as you know, but I was still able to get away somehow. To be honest, I expected them to come looking for me, to finish their job, but I guess they reasoned I wasn’t worth it anymore, or that I wouldn’t make it far enough either way with these wounds.

“I probably wouldn’t have, to be honest, if I had decided to go in any other direction. But against all odds I flew and flew, adrenaline allowing me to ignore the wounds. I flew, but at one point… my powers…”

It seems almost shocking to Yixing, after everything Yifan must have gone through during his teenager years and his time as a young adult; it shocks him that _this_ is the point where he has to hesitate, that causes him to break. But after everything, after all the time Yixing has spent with Yifan, the time he spent pouring over his books and learning what can, he understands. This wound is deeper, omnipresent, and affects Yifan more than the memories of a past gone by that could possibly haunt him.

“I lost them in full flight, and I didn’t notice early enough to make it to the ground safely,” the elder forces the words out nonetheless, and Yixing doesn’t try to stop him this time, doesn’t tell him that it’s okay if he doesn’t want to talk about it. Yifan looks as if he needs to talk about it.

“It was another lucky coincidence, a miracle, really, that Luhan found me as quickly as he did,” Yifan looks up from their joined hands, his grey eyes stormy with the whirlwind of emotions that are rushing through them. Yixing’s brain distantly takes note of how nice they look with the candlelight dancing over them, but the small smile that grazes Yifan’s lips draws Yixing’s attention to it more.

“It was a miracle that he found and brought me to this hospital. And that you were here. That might have been the biggest miracle, and I owe you my life on so many levels, from healing my wounds to keeping me going until this day.”

Yixing only realizes that he’s gotten up from his chair when the sound of chair legs scratching across the floor registers with him. Yifan looks up at him with a small smile, a questioning expression on his features, but when Yixing rounds the table he readily scoots back from the table a little to face the younger properly.

Without asking for permission the healer sits down on Yifan’s lap, wrapping his arms tightly around the other and drawing his head against Yixing’s chest. His hands grip the fabric at the back of Yifan’s pristine white shirt, not caring in the least if he’s wrinkling it. A slightly apologetic sounding, muffled laugh resounds from somewhere near his collarbone. “I’m sorry, did I ruin the mood of the evening?” Yifan asks, but his hands fist into Yixing’s shirt, welcoming the comfort the younger is offering.

Yixing shakes his head slightly, even though Yifan can’t see the motion in their current position. “No, you didn’t,” the younger whispers even if technically Yifan did. But Yixing couldn’t care less about the mood they had built up during the evening, Yifan laid his heart out for the younger, and Yixing values that more than anything the other prepared for the night.

He pulls away enough to lean down and press soft kisses from Yifan’s jawbone all the way down his neck, moving on to his clothed shoulders. Yifan tilts his head in invitation, his hands falling to the smaller’s waist. For a while they sit there like that, the elder making small sounds of approval while Yixing mouths at his skin. Only when Yixing starts nibbling at a spot on Yifan’s neck and the elder’s soft sighs start turning into low moans does the elder push him away gently.

“Yixing,” Yifan’s voice is breathless, and that fact combined with the slightly glassy look in his eyes makes Yixing want to dive down to claim the other’s lips immediately. He doesn’t though, because Yifan continues in a low voice. “As much as I like where this is heading, we still have a dessert, and it’d be a shame if it’d go bad.”

 _How about you be my dessert and I can be yours_? Yixing is tempted to let the words slip out, but Yifan put so much effort into their dinner, that it really would be a shame. _We still have all night_.

So Yixing lets his hands glide down Yifan’s arms, and kisses him on the lips firmly, letting his tongue lick along Yifan’s bottom lip, before he pulls back. “Okay, let’s have that dessert,” He says, trying to pour all the emotions he’s feeling into his smile, before giving it a mischievous edge. “Before we move on to the second dessert.”

With that he’s out of Yifan’s lap and walking back to his own chair, enjoying how Yifan has to gulp visibly once to compose himself, before his lips stretch into a silly grin. “Sounds nice,” the elder replies, and gets up to arrange the dessert _he_ prepared.

They fall back into mindless chatter surprisingly easy, over slices of chocolate cake and the light of the candles. And Yixing is back inside their bubble, where everything that the candles don’t illuminate doesn’t exist. It’s a warm place, one where the both of them are just by themselves.

Yixing looks at Yifan, the smell of the food he has cooked—just for Yixing—still lingering in the air, their hands clasped together on the table top and a fond smile on the taller’s lips and Yixing doesn’t care how cliché that date might be. Yixing feels so in love that his heart is breaking because a small part of his mind reminds him that this is just a moment, a moment that will not last forever no matter how desperately he wishes it would.

Their bubble is bound to burst, but Yixing doesn’t allow it to burst just yet.

Later that night it’s Yixing who drags the elder back to his room, eager for them to get to the “second dessert.” It’s lust that’s installing the urgency of his motions, that has himself press against Yifan as soon as they make it past the door frame, but it’s also the overwhelming need to be as close as possible to the taller.

Yixing winds one hand into Yifan’s hair and tiptoes to catch the elder’s lips in a kiss, his other hand stroking up from his chest, over his ribs and around Yifan’s body up to his shoulder blades. The blond immediately accommodates him by bending down a little, while at the same time securing Yixing’s position with arms wrapped around the smaller’s waist. He lets out a surprised noise when Yixing licks at his lips insistently, downright demanding entrance. Usually the smaller isn’t that intent, coaxing rather than claiming, or letting the other take the commando all together. Tonight, however ,Yixing doesn’t hold back, doesn’t have any patience or desire to wait for the other to dictate the pace.

Yifan’s fancy outfit quickly gets mussed up as Yixing’s hand wanders down to tug the white shirt out from the pants, wanting to get into contact with the elder’s soft, warm skin. He feels Yifan shudder against him when he lets his fingertips dance across the taller’s back, and a soft moan escapes the other as Yixing tightens the grip on his hair slightly in order to angle their heads a little differently.

Yifan himself let’s his hands roam as well, as if Yixing slipping beneath his shirt gave him permission to do the same. With the outfit the younger is sporting, it’s not difficult for Yifan to access bare skin, but Yixing still lets out an approving moan when he feels large hands brush over the skin right above his waistband before moving up the smaller’s back. Using the hold, Yifan draws their bodies flush together. The newfound proximity makes both of their breaths hitch as their growing arousals rub against the other’s body.

With an elevated sense of urgency Yixing backs Yifan against the bed, and the elder scoots back onto the mattress without needing to be prompted. The brunette is on top of him within a second, straddling Yifan’s waist as he leans forward to reconnect their lips. Both of their breathing has grown shallow by then, and Yixing can feel Yifan’s erratic heartbeat beneath his fingers as he lets his hands glide over the other’s closed chest, purposefully applying a bit more pressure when he passes his nipples.

He unbuttons the blond’s shirt while he’s kissing him, all tongue and nipping on Yifan’s lower lip because it makes him release these _delicious_ noises of need and want. Yixing is the only one who can draw them from the elder, and he takes great delight in that fact.

When he’s opened the shirt far enough, he moves from Yifan’s lips down, pressing open mouthed kisses along the column of his neck, over his collarbones, moving lower and lower while he keeps on undoing button after button. Only as soon as the whole shirt is unfastened does he move to give Yifan’s nipple a kittenish lick. He hears the elder suck in a breath as he tries to suppress his moans. Yixing can’t have that though, so he repeats the motion, teasing the bud until the strained noises Yifan’s been making turn into a full out moan when he changes to sucking on it gently instead.

Yifan’s chest is still half covered by his shirt, and while Yixing attends to both of his nipples, he lets his hands stroke up Yifan’s chest, moving the shirt out of the way in the process. The noises Yifan’s making, and his fingers digging into where he’s holding Yixing’s hips—so low that he’s close to holding the smaller’s ass instead—have Yixing rut against the taller’s stomach while he’s leaning down to suck bruises into Yifan’s collarbone area.

The elder whines in protest and bucks his hips up. A smirk drawing onto his features Yixing decides to acknowledge the hint, moving lower until he can tilt his hips in a way that makes their clothed erections brush together when he leans forward this time. They both moan in unison, and suddenly Yifan’s hands are eager to strip Yixing of his tank top, no matter how flimsy it might be. He brushes his hands up the younger’s front, getting Yixing to lift his arms to draw the obstructive article of clothing off, throwing it blindly to the floor.

Yixing draws his head back, and grinds his hips down when Yifan reciprocates by brushing his thumbs over the younger’s nipples. His breath hitches at the double sensation, before he releases it in a low moan.

The urgency returns to Yixing’s actions after that, and he quickly moves to strip Yifan and himself of their pants and underwear. For a moment he eyes the shirt that’s hanging open on the other’s frame, and acknowledges how hot Yifan looks like this, flushed face, disheveled hair, panting with the white, open dress shirt. But he remembers that the elder said something about wanting to return the shirt to Junmyeon, and it seems a tad disrespectful to have sex with Yifan wearing it.

Not as if it would make much of a difference anymore, a tiny voice inside Yixing’s head says, but he still reluctantly takes the shirt off Yifan’s broad frame. With the both of them naked, Yixing can finally grind their erections together as he lowers himself back down over Yifan, pressing kisses along his jawbone.

He lets his breathing gust over the wet spots he’s licking along the other’s skin, enjoying the shivers it earns him. When he moves up a little so that his moans reverberate directly against the elder’s ears, he can feel Yifan’s hands finally move from his hips to grab his ass. Whether to regain some control over the pace they’re rutting against each other, or because he’s trying to get the other to finally take it to the next level, Yixing doesn’t know, but he also doesn’t care as he moans loudly.

He knows that Yifan is just as painfully hard as he is, and about as desperate, so he chooses not to prolong their foreplay any more. Instead he reaches for the lube—they’re now keeping it in Yifan’s bedside cupboard, so that Yixing doesn’t have to go through the embarrassment of having to run through the hospital’s hallways in the middle of them having sex again.

Yifan makes an approving noise when Yixing hands him the bottle, and he keeps on placing fleeting kisses on the elder’s chest while Yifan coats his fingers with the cold liquid. Instead of immediately pushing his fingers in, Yifan first takes the time to rub his digits along the rim of Yixing’s hole, teasing the younger by dipping his finger in only slightly before pulling back out, until Yixing whines for him to hurry already.

Going by the amused smirk, the blond had probably been waiting for Yixing to grow impatient, and as a retort the younger rocks their hips together again. The retaliation has Yifan throwing his head back, eyes clenched shut as a drawn out moan leaves his lips. His fingers move with urgency now, and he’s almost a little too quick with stretching Yixing, but that’s exactly what the younger needs at that moment. He just wants to feel Yifan inside of him already, to join their bodies, and the need, the _lust_ has his pulse hammering in his veins.

Yifan’s long fingers are a blessing, the younger reasons when the elder finds his prostate immediately once he inserts the third finger, quickening the pace of Yixing’s breathing even more than the smaller thought was possible. Unable to control himself, the brunette moves back on Yifan’s fingers, releasing moans and high-pitched whines whenever he get the other to rub against his prostate.

“Yi- _fan_ ,” he knows that Yifan loves the way his name sounds on Yixing’s lips in moments like these, all breathless and distorted by pleasure. “You—you might want to take your fingers out.”

For a moment the taller seems to hesitate, contemplative as to whether he should keep on teasing the younger or heed his advice, but when Yixing moans especially loudly—on purpose, of course—Yifan withdraws his fingers with a groan.

Hiding his smirk from the other’s view, Yixing leans over. Even though he doesn’t have enough air left in his lungs to properly kiss the other, he can still press open-mouthed kisses against Yifan’s mouth—a lot of tongue, little finesse. At the same time grabs a hold of the lube bottle and coats his own hand before reaching between them to spread it along Yifan’s length. The elder moans when Yixing’s slender fingers move up and down his cock, and his fingers fist in the sheets while he tries to keep up with his boyfriend’s mouth and fingers at the same time.

Letting the other have a taste of his own medicine, Yixing reasons. He has to cut his teasing short as well however, when his own body is screaming for attention as well. One hand placed on Yifan’s chest for balance he uses the other one to guide the taller’s cock towards his entrance, inching down slowly. Yifan is holding his hips while the younger goes down, rubbing soothing circles into his skin—or at least trying to, but his hands are too shaky for smooth movements.

The stretch of Yifan’s cock is slightly uncomfortable—not painful with how thorough Yifan has prepped him, but uncomfortable—and Yixing stills for a moment to catch his breath a little and get used to the sensation. The elder is visibly having a hard time, restraining himself from moving, face bunched up in concentration, but Yifan waits for Yixing to roll his hips experimentally before he dares to move even the slightest bit.

Placing his second hand on Yifan’s chest as well, Yixing lifts himself off Yifan’s cock before sinking back down. He repeats the motion, changing angles until finally he finds the one that has him gasping, before a desperate noise—something between a whine and a keen—rips from his mouth.

He keeps the angle, his pace increasing as he rubs Yifan’s cock against his prostate, and the elder bucks his hips to meet Yixing’s downward grinding with upwards thrusting. They’re both panting frantically, and Yixing has gone slightly hoarse from all the noise he’s making. Yifan is mostly groaning, with a moan few and far between, so the brunette can’t really tell whether the other’s voice is affected just as badly.

Yixing is close to his release when he feels Yifan’s grip on his hips tighten, his thrusts losing their rhythm a little, and he knows that the other is close as well. He loves seeing Yifan like this, all disheveled and panting, lust clouding his eyes as he looks up at Yixing and only Yixing. The sight spurs the younger on to roll his hips with an increased speed, uncaring of his already quivering thighs. One of Yifan’s hands moves from the younger’s hips to wrap around Yixing’s so far untouched cock, having the brunette move into the touch with a high whine.

It’s a race of who reaches their orgasm first from that point on. It’s Yifan who comes first, releasing inside of Yixing after a particularly hard thrust, his back arching off the bed. With the feeling of the other’s hot cum filling him, and Yifan’s hand tightening around Yixing’s cock involuntarily, Yixing follows him right over the edge however with a drawn out moan that sounds remotely like the elder’s name on his lips.

It’s a while after they’ve come down from the high of their orgasms and are snuggled closely together, that Yixing speaks up because he just can’t contain his feelings. He already expressed them with his body, showed it in the way he held Yifan close and worshipped Yifan’s body the best way he could, and yet he feels the need to verbalize it, like an answer to the confession of his past that Yifan gave him that evening.

“I won’t let go of you, Yifan. I won’t,” Yixing is intent, beseeching, firm in his resolution. “Never.”

Yifan curls around him, pressing his chest against Yixing’s back even closer and burying his nose in the crook of Yixing’s neck. “Thank you,” he whispers, and the younger feels the words as a gust of air against his neck.

And Yixing can’t help himself from pretending to fall into the delusion that Yifan’s warm embrace creates, allowing himself to bathe in the feeling of those long arms wrapped so tight around his body, so reassuring and solid; even when he knows that Yifan can’t say the words back because it’s a promise the elder isn’t sure he can keep.

 

\---

 

Time flies by after that, quicker than Yixing can even try to comprehend, despite all the things that are changing. It feels as if his and Yifan’s relationship has reached a new level, the little hints of uncertainty and caution around each other gone. After another month of Yifan doing well on their daily walks and in general, he brings up the idea that they can’t possibly keep the other in the hospital forever.

“And since you don’t have any other place to return to, I was thinking…” Yixing pauses, playing with Yifan’s fingers—a nervous habit he’s developed and only displays when he’s around the other. Yifan urges him to go on with a slight nudge, and Yixing lifts his gaze, a shy smile playing on his lips. “I was thinking whether you’d want to live at my place.”

Yifan’s eyes widen a little in surprise, but the small smile on his lips speaks of happiness. “You want me to move in with you?” There’s a teasing tilt to his voice, but the younger decides to ignore it.

“Yes, I mean, getting you from here to my house should be no problem, and you’ve been doing so well that I don’t think you need supervising 24/7 anymore.” Yixing lists off, before adding, “And it’s not as is if we haven’t essentially been living together already.”

“You just don’t want me hanging around at your work place all the time anymore because that means _you_ have to see me 24/7,” Yifan pretends to sulk, his arms folded in front of his chest.

“Well, perhaps.” Yixing plays along, before he leans forward, crawling closer to the elder on all fours over the hospital bed until he’s able to whisper into Yifan’s ear. “But perhaps I also just don’t want you at my work place anymore because my colleagues would look at me funnily if I did certain... _things_ with you. Also, my home offers us a little more—” a short pause for effect, the last word coming out as barely more than a gust of air, “— _privacy_.”

The elder’s hands have long since found their way to Yixing’s waist, and he squeezes when Yixing finishes his sentence. He tilts his head to capture Yixing’s lips but the brunette pulls back after a short time, sitting back on his heels with a smug grin. “It’s still afternoon, Fan. There are people around. We can’t start anything now.”

Yifan narrows his eyes. “Okay, you have very convincing arguments,” he admits, making Yixing’s grin widen by a fraction still.

The move is organized quicker than Yixing would have dared hoping.

Junmyeon agrees immediately to discharging Yifan. “He’s your patient. If you judge him to be healthy enough to be released, then I for sure won’t argue with you about that.”

They don’t expect Yifan to own much, but over the months he spent at the hospital he has amassed more belongings than both of them thought, most of them being books and sketching pads. With Luhan’s help however, it’s child’s play to get the moving boxes they managed to fill with Yifan’s stuff from the hospital to Yixing’s home, and they unpack quickly.

The first time Yifan sets a foot into Yixing’s flat, Yixing feels elated and self-conscious at the same time. He had purposely tidied up the place, cleaned everything thoroughly before Yifan came, but it still doesn’t stop himself from feeling nervous about the elder’s impending judgment. His flat is small, and perhaps a little cramped, framed pictures hanging everywhere and his furniture is a colourful, diverse mess of different styles he amassed over time.

In a way, he doesn’t expect Yifan to still be perceptive enough to even properly process all the impressions Yixing’s flat has to offer. They could have taken a car to get from the hospital to Yixing’s place, but Yifan had vehemently refused, insisting that if he was to be discharged he should be in a state where he could walk such a small distance at least. Yixing didn’t have the heart to disagree, especially when Yifan seemed so resolute.

Despite clearly being exhausted, however, Yifan still has enough strength left to inspect the smaller’s flat curiously. The healer watches in awe as his boyfriend’s lips stretch more and more into a smile before he’s downright beaming down at Yixing. “It looks cozy,” he says, and when Yixing’s excited expression falls into one of disbelief— _cozy_ is pretty much like calling food _interesting_ —Yifan immediately steps forward to wrap the smaller in an apologetic hug. “It’s great, really.”

He pulls back enough to look Yixing in the eyes, whispering a “Thank you” before he leans down to kiss Yixing in his flat— _their_ flat—for the first time.

“Ehm, okay guys, I guess that’s the sign for me to take my leave,” Luhan’s voice echoes from somewhere behind Yixing’s right shoulder. The brunette has half a mind to pull back with an embarrassed laugh, apologizing to his friend, but Yifan’s tongue is licking along his bottom lip, asking for entrance, and well, Luhan knows where the door is.

“So, what was that you said about the privacy of your flat…,” Yifan whispers, and Yixing only barely contains his chuckle as he decides that the bedroom is a good place to start the tour of his flat.

They sit on the couch later that evening, Yixing with his legs thrown over Yifan’s lap, and their hands intertwined. “You know, I could paint to earn a bit of money. To help you with the rent and so on,” the elder offers, making Yixing lift his head from where he had already been dozing of slightly against Yifan’s shoulder.

“It’s fine, I can take care of the both of us. You don’t need to force yourself to earn anything.”

“I know, and I’m grateful for that. But I can’t just keep on imposing on you, I’ll have to support you as well in the future,” Yifan argues. “And I think it’ll be good if I keep myself busy with something.”

Yixing hums in understanding.

“Or do you think I’m not good enough of a painter to make any money off my art?” the blond asks, feigning hurt as he pushes his lower lip out in a mock-put.

It earns him a hearty laugh from Yixing as the younger hits his arm with his free hand. “Oh stop that pouting, of course I think your art is good enough. You know how much I admire your art.”

“Just wanted to make sure!” Yifan claims before leaning in and capturing Yixing’s lips, effectively muffling his laughter.

Yixing doesn’t mind at all when Yifan lets go of his hand and slips it around his waist, drawing him closer. Instead, he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

 

\---

 

Days pass by, weeks pass by, and Yixing and Yifan fall into a daily routine. They wake up together, sometimes a tangled mess of limbs, sometimes a good meter of distance between them—it doesn’t matter. They have breakfast together, and Yixing has to start getting ready at least ten, if not fifteen minutes before he has to leave because that’s how long Yifan keeps him in the hallway with kisses, unwilling to part.

In the end Yixing always has to leave for work however, and the elder stays behind to fill one of the many canvases Yixing bought him with sceneries or animals (or portraits of Yixing, but these are not for sale).

Everything is good. Everything is _great_.

Except that it isn’t.

It’s a pattern Yixing should have gotten used to by now, that no matter how good the time seems, it doesn’t last. Truthfully, it’s been months since Yifan’s last bad attack, and even though they’re both still very cautious, not letting Yifan go out without anyone to accompany him, Yixing believed that it was technically a superfluous safety measure.

But one day he comes home and Yifan isn’t immediately at the door step to greet him the way he usually is, with paint across on his cheek and his hands and his clothes, and pretty much everywhere, and a “welcome home” kiss. The other already woke up that day feeling not that good, and even though Yixing offered to take the day off at the hospital to stay at home with him, the elder insisted that it was going to be okay. He still has days where the void tugs stronger, and days where the pull is shallow, so he claimed it was just one of these normal fluctuations.

“Yifan?” he tentatively calls into the flat, hoping against hope that for some reason today is the first day that the other is so wrapped up in his painting that he simply couldn’t tear himself away to come greet his boyfriend.

When he doesn’t get an answer he unceremoniously drops the grocery bags to the floor as his heart suddenly beats a mile an hour as panic wells up inside of him, his breathing turning shallow and hectic as he rushes into the flat, frantically calling for the elder.

He’s greeted with empty rooms and no answer.

They have an agreement that Yifan won’t head out with anyone else unless they have talked about it beforehand or the taller informs Yixing with a text, but his phone doesn’t show and new messages either. Yixing is fighting the scared sobs that threaten to fall from his mouth when he hears a rustling coming from his wardrobe, and he essentially flies across the room, throwing the doors open—which are slightly open when usually he always closes them, he notes absentmindedly.

He doesn’t know what he expects, and for a moment he’s just relieved to have found Yifan, still alive and moving, but then the sight properly registers with him.

From an outsider’s perspective it must look almost funny the way Yifan, with his gigantic size, has squeezed himself into the furthest corner of the cupboard, knees drawn to his chest and curled into a ball, trying to make himself as small as possible in the process. He’s half-hidden by their jackets and suit pants and all the other stuff they hang in their wardrobe, but Yixing yanks them all away without hesitation.

Yifan looks up from his perch at the sudden movement and influx of light, and his eyes widen slightly when he sees the younger. “Yixing,” the name is spoken so softly that Yixing isn’t sure whether it really came out as a gust of air and whether Yifan just mouthed it.

He sees light reflect on tear tracks on the elders cheeks, and for a moment Yixing feels as if he can’t breathe. It is so unexpected. Perhaps that’s why this attack hits Yixing ten times harder than any attack did before. Or perhaps it’s because this is the most severe attack Yifan’s ever experienced, as if all the time that’s been going by well was only an elastic band being pulled tauter and tauter, until it was eventually released.

 _The wardrobe_. He thinks, and suddenly it makes sense, but Yixing wishes it didn’t, because if his theory is right then the attack might have been even stronger than Yifan’s agitated state lets on. _The wardrobe is dark_ , _it’s a small room_ , _it’s as far from the open sky as Yifan can get in this flat_.

“Yifan.” He eventually composes himself enough to voice the elder’s name, but has to clear his throat when he notices how it sounds more like a croak than anything else.

He squats down to get on eye-level with his boyfriend. No matter how much he feels like throwing up, he can’t let any of that show now, because his main task is it to calm Yifan down now. “Hey, Yifan, I’m home. Everything’s going to be okay now.”

There is a heartbeat of silence where the elder just looks at him, then he pretty much launches himself at Yixing. The sudden impact makes the younger stumble, but he manages to catch himself with his hands so that he sits steadily enough to keep his balance even when Yifan presses closer, his hands grabbing the back of the other’s shirt as if he has the intention to never, _ever_ , let go again.

“I almost wasn’t strong enough, Yixing,” the taller confesses in a broken voice, and Yixing’s heart misses a beat as the sickness returns full force. Like this, clinging to Yixing tightly with tear streaks running down his cheeks, Yifan simply looks vulnerable and the sight is almost too much to take for Yixing. But he reminds himself that he has to be strong now, can’t let himself succumb to the numbness of fear. “I almost gave in today, Yixing. I’m sorry.”´

“Shhh, it’s okay.” Yixing gently hushes his boyfriend, rocking lightly back and forth in what he hopes is a calming motion. “You are strong, Yifan. I know that. You did resist in the end, that’s everything that matters.”

He hopes the lie sounds more convincing to Yifan than it does to himself.

It’s that day that Yixing has to learn that the attacks are unpredictable, and that no matter how well Yifan is doing, there’s always the danger of a relapse.

 

\---

 

It’s later that night, after Yixing has finally managed to calm down the elder enough for him to go to sleep, a task that took hours, and even then Yifan hadn’t been back to being fully responsive, that the healer sits on the floor of his living room, books he hasn’t looked at in weeks strewn all around him in a frantic attempt to find knowledge he had overlooked so far.

He only allows himself to lose himself like this because he knows that Yifan is dead asleep, and that the blond will stay like that for a while. Yifan is always exhausted after a fit, and after the one he experienced that afternoon Yixing is certain that the taller is knocked out straight until the morning, if not even till noon.

It’s what made him pull the books out a little less gently from the shelves, making more noise than he’d usually dare to make when he threw them on the floor as if the books are at fault for the situation that Yifan is in, that Yixing is in.

They aren’t at fault, obviously, but Yixing doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything but how to heal Yifan, how to finally, _finally_ make it stop, the constant up and downs, and the tear in his heart that’s getting bigger and bigger whenever he sees Yifan suffer.

To love and to lose or to not love at all.

Yixing thinks about that phrase a lot, has been thinking about it for weeks now, but he can’t come up with an answer. He loves, and there’s no way he can change that now. He doesn’t have a choice, so he can only hope that he doesn’t have to experience either of the options the phrase offers.

But his books give him no comfort, and they might only be an excuse after all, because he has only leafed through them aggressively, leaving them open on random pages before sitting back on the floor, looking at them in desolation. He can no longer pretend that everything is okay, not after the happenings of the day, and he has to confront that he might have purposely overlooked little details because they would have destroyed his illusion that Yifan was doing well. He has been doing well, in terms of not having any fits, but aside from that he has to admit that the other hasn’t been doing that good.

There is a fear eating away at Yixing, for all the times he sees Yifan sway, all the times things come crushing back down when they had just starting looking up. Yixing is so very afraid that he might not be able to keep his promise because while he doesn’t want to let go of Yifan, the void inside Yifan might tear the elder away from him without Yixing standing any chance.

It feels as if it is only a matter of time. With every passing day the fact that he’s bound to the ground seems to chip away at Yifan, wearing his resolution, his will to hold on, thinner and thinner.

And Yixing has to bring himself to face the truth that no matter how much he wishes for it he will never be able fill the void within Yifan just with his presence and goodwill. The helplessness he feels that night is overwhelming, as if all the fears and doubts he had suppressed that afternoon—or for weeks, _months_ perhaps—come crashing down on him all at once, tearing him apart in the most painful way. He reasons he should be researching like mad because there has to be a way to help Yifan out there, _there has to be_. But he feels so utterly powerless that he simply can’t get his limbs to move.

For the first time he sits on the floor of his living room in middle of a reminder of why he’s feeling so miserable and just cries, ugly sobs ripping from his mouth as he curls in on himself. He cries until his throat feels scratchy and raw and his eyes burn, until he has no more tears left.

Somewhere along the way he felt the need to scream, to just let all his frustrations out, but the emotion quickly vanished. In the end he just feels empty, empty and numb. As soon as his sobs are nothing more than silent hiccups and his tears have stopped he gets up from the floor, and heads to the bathroom, cleaning his face in the hope that in the morning the elder won’t notice that he’s been crying all night.

He then returns to the living room to sort all the books back to their rightful places. The moves are mechanical, as if he’s running on autopilot. He feels as if the connection between him and his emotions is muffled, and everything he feels is dulled.

But even snuggling against Yifan in bed eventually doesn’t bring him the calm it usually does, and he hates that thought. Holding his boyfriend just reminds Yixing that he’s trying to run a race against time, and he’s losing.

 

\---

 

The day after Yifan’s breakdown Yixing calls in sick—or rather he tells Junmyeon that Yifan had a bad fit the previous day, and his boss immediately tells him to stay at home.

He and the blond go through their morning routine in unusual silence, and then wind up on the couch, simply sitting beside each other, sorting out their thoughts. Eventually it’s Yifan who starts talking, apologizing again for scaring Yixing, which the smaller dismisses because it’s not like the elder did it on purpose. The conversation almost feels like a well-practiced dance to Yixing for how often they’ve already had it, albeit rarely in the last few weeks.

They then discuss how things will go on. Yixing suggests that it might be the best if Yifan isn’t left alone after all. “It was just a one time thing, Yixing,” the elder argues, trying to sound convincing. “I’ve been good otherwise. Just because it happened once doesn’t mean it’s bound to happen again soon.”

“But what if it does?” Yixing says, and he hates that he’s trying to bring down Yifan’s optimism when he’s been the one to encourage it in the beginning all the time, but he’s scared. “I’m not saying that it will happen again, I just want to be safe rather than sorry.”

Yifan looks at him with sad eyes and touches Yixing as if the younger is the one that needs consolation. Perhaps he does. “It’s okay. I get it, Xing.” But the blond’s eyes say that in reality he doesn’t because he doesn’t want to look at the signs Yixing that can’t help but notice now.

The next few weeks he takes Yifan to the hospital with him, and the elder spends his time either at the nursing station, or in the staff room, or walking the hallways with Jongdae or Minseok or even Luhan whenever the honey-haired male gets a day off and can drop by.

He’s only complaining slightly about it, saying he feels like he’s some child Yixing drops off at daycare in the morning only to come and collect him in the evening again. But Yixing just has to cheekily answer that that’s kinda what it is, and that Yifan is a big child either way, demanding kisses from the taller by pouting to make his boyfriend cease his whining and give in.

 

\---

 

Yifan says he’s fine. He _seems_ fine.

He holds Yixing in his arms and smiles at him gently, _lovingly_ and Yixing wants to believe him, but he can no longer lie to himself, can no longer turn a blind eye to the reality of the shadow he sees in Yifan’s eyes.

It’s small, far away, overlaid by genuine happiness. Perhaps Yifan himself doesn’t know it. Perhaps he thinks he’s truly fine.

But he isn’t.

And Yixing knows.

He sees the faint lines of exhaustion in Yifan’s face from constantly having to fight the pull of the void and he knows that Yifan will never be completely fine like this.

And Yixing just can’t come to terms with that.

 

\---

 

More than a month has passed since Yifan’s last big breakdown, but it doesn’t mean that Yixing’s worries are eased. The comforting bubble of illusion has burst, and Yixing can’t help but take note of the gradual changes that add up. It’s like the last fit set something in motion, a continuous deteriorating of Yifan’s state. Not in a way that he looks more exhausted, or as if there’s a stronger pull a stronger desire.

It’s the exact opposite, and that’s what scares Yixing so much more.

He never thought that he would have loved to see longing in Yifan’s eyes when he looks at the sky. Heck, he would even take the lingering pain that doesn’t disappear for a bit after the elder has to draw the curtains closed. Anything would be better than having to watch the lack of real emotions in Yifan. It feels as if every emotion of the elder is duller, less present.

It prompts Yixing to pick up his research with newfound vigor, spending night after night over his books, the internet, in the library or really at any place that could possibly hold any information to help the healer find a way out to help Yifan.

He refuses to have another breakdown similar to the one he had in his living room, turning the desperation into fuel to keep him going, even when he can see that the emotions Yifan’s trying to display are only an act, even when he can see how the elder is at odds with himself, as if he himself is fighting against the apathy but the veil is just too impermeable.

It’s by chance, really, that Yixing ends up back with the book that started so many things, triggered Yixing’s first episode of truly fearing for Yifan, the book that made him run to Luhan and whose pages contains all the words the healer doesn’t want to hear.

He forces himself to read them again nonetheless, because he can’t miss any potential chance, and any information, no matter how small, that might be important.

When Yixing first turns the page, he almost doesn’t believe his eyes, because _how could he have missed this_. Except he knows exactly how he could have missed the last few pages of the book, because he had been feeling too nauseous, too suffocated after reading about the suicides of wielders who lost their power to continue reading till the end. He put the book back on his desk with shaky hands before hurrying out of his flat, and that was where the book stayed for weeks, and months, because Yixing hasn’t dared touching it again.

It’s difficult for him to decide whether he wants to cry or laugh madly at his own stupidity because perhaps this would have spared him a few weeks of despair. Then again, perhaps the knowledge wouldn’t have changed anything at any point where he wasn’t as desperate as he is now. After all, the book mainly cautions against thinking that restoring powers is as simple as destroying them, or even possible in the first place.

“It’s best to like the process of having one wielder destroy another wielder’s powers to the process of breaking a vase. Your hands have the power to shatter it, but the reverse doesn’t hold true. There are too many other influences at work in the breaking of the china the vase is made off. You might be able to use your hands, the power of your hands, to glue the shards back together, but you won’t ever be able to return the vase to its original state.

“It’s always easier to break things than it is to mend them. That applies to a wielder’s powers as well. A wielder with healing abilities might be able to restore a muted wielder’s powers, but in the few cases it was attempted, not one showed complete recovery. More often than not there was only a minimal or no improvement at all ascertainable.

“On top of that it has been observed that in all cases where a healing was accomplished, no matter how small, it always was at the expense of the healer’s powers. A healer differs from other power wielder due to the fact that their power doesn’t affect others externally, but internally by transferring their own power.

“It hasn’t been possible to find satisfactory proof for this thesis, simply due to the lack of a sufficiently sized amount of samples, but it seems the most likely that in order to heal a muted wielder the healer him/herself has to transfer a part of their own power into their patient, and when letting it bud, it is lost to themselves forever.

“There have however not been enough tests made, and it is highly inadvisable to attempt the healing of a muted wielder, since there might be unpredicted and unprecedented side effects and complications.”

Yixing repeats the last sentence in his inner mind, as if it would make any difference at all. There are hardly any risks the healer wouldn’t take at this point, and none of them concern himself. He doesn’t know when it happened, when he started feeling like this, that he’s willing to give everything, anything at all to put Yifan back together.

He rereads the page, over and over and over again, until he’s sure he knows it by heart, simply because he doesn’t want to miss anything else after having already missed such vital information for such a long period of time.

Of course no new information appears on the page miraculously, nothing to guide Yixing through what he’s going to attempt, no further warning or reassurance about the consequences of his actions.

Essentially all he can do is hope that he’ll succeed, and won’t have to find out first hand about the “unpredictable” side effects and complications.

 

\---

 

In the following days after his discovery he leads many internal debates, leading to even more sleepless nights. Yifan seems to notice that there is something that’s keeping Yixing occupied more than usual, but he doesn’t broach the topic, as if sensing that the younger is unwilling to talk about it with him either way.

He expresses his comfort in other ways, as good as he can while keeping himself together, mostly through physical comfort, lingering touches, tight hugs and holding the smaller close at night. If Yixing still needed any incentive to go through with his plan, all these small gestures would have been it. But he doesn’t need any further reasons. His resolution already stands either way.

The thing he’s debating over is not the _if_ but rather the _how_. He’s caught between telling Yifan about what he found out, or simply going ahead with his plan.

There are advantages and disadvantages to both options, but Yixing has been leaning towards the latter right from the beginning. It’s making him feel guilty to not include Yifan in the process of making this decision, but there are too many question marks, too many possible scenarios where Yixing will not even be able to attempt his healing.

Because if Yixing is being honest, there is no way Yifan will allow him to go through with it, no matter how severe his own pain is, and how close to the edge he stands. Knowing of the potential risks for Yixing, the elder would always chose to fight this battle alone if it means he keeps the brunette safe in the process.

The fact that this reasoning neglects however is that fighting alone might have a lot of results, but keeping Yixing safe is none of them.

Eventually the smaller forces a deadline on himself because no matter how long he procrastinates, one day he will have to make a decision, and the sooner the better. Perhaps it’s a cowardly decision to not involve Yifan, but Yixing doesn’t think he could live with knowing there is a possibility and having the elder suffer nonetheless. Thus he decides that there is no way but to heal Yifan without his knowledge.

It’s fortunate for him that the elder has a pretty deep sleep because this way he can sit up in their in the middle of the night without startling the other. He starts with his usual concentration exercises, forcing his heart—that seems to want to jump out of his chest—to calm down, and whenever he breathes in he draws onto his powers, and whenever he breathes out he pushes the powers into his fingertips.

He repeats the exercise more often than usually, wanting to collect as much power as possible. After all he has to be quick and efficient he wants to have any chance at being successful. He still remembers his contacts with the void after all, and remembers how it simply consumed the continuous stream of energy Yixing directed at it at first.

Perhaps he has a chance if he throws as much energy as he can at it. The second important reason is that there is a high likelihood that the healing will wake Yifan up. After all Yixing can’t imagine how something as severe as this should happen without the other noticing when even healing a scratch or a bruise entails a short stinging.

It’s a weird feeling of calmness that flows through Yixing when he has collected all the power he thinks he can possibly store in his hands. He has made his decision, _truly_ made it, without any doubt, and he will stick to it.

So there is no hesitation, just caution when Yixing lowers his hands to hover over his boyfriends back—

And then he’s pushing, all of his power flowing out of him at once, concentrating it at the void, where Yifan’s powers should be.

For a moment he is dizzy from the rush, then the pain starts, first slow and barely noticeable, but then it escalates, growing stronger and stronger, until Yixing feels as if someone is dribbling liquid fire onto his right arm, all the way down from his birthmark to his hands and back up.

He holds on for as long as he can, with all his power, but eventually he has to pull away. The pain remains though, and he fights hard to push it down, to stop it from overwhelming him. There are more important things to attend to now. He’s just happy that he’s still able to hold himself together pretty well, enough of his power left within his body to prevent a recurrence of the events that had followed his and Yifan’s first meeting.

Due to the pain Yixing hasn’t been able to concentrate on the void, and he doesn’t know whether he was successful, whether he held on long enough to make the necessary difference or if the pain is the backlash, the proof that he failed.

The moment Yixing pulls away the other awakes with a gasp, as if Yixing’s healing had caught him in his sleeping state for the duration of it. His grey eyes are thrown wide open as he inhales like a drowning man making it to the surface and being able to finally breathe again. Yixing on the other hand is clutching his arm, gasping for air, out of breath while he tries to keep the pain from his face the best he can.

Yifan stares at him in shock for all of two seconds before he sits up, grabbing Yixing’s shoulders roughly, grip tight enough to hurt slightly, but that hardly even registers with Yixing. “What have you done?” the elder whispers urgently, a hint of panic in his voice, eyes still wide.

It isn’t fear for himself that Yixing reads in the way Yifan’s eyes dart wildly around, as if trying to take in every part of Yixing’s body at the same time. The reason for Yifan’s agitation is worry, worry for Yixing, and it confirms all of Yixing’s decisions a thousand times.

The decision to heal Yifan, and the decision to go ahead with it without asking for Yifan’s permission.

“What have you done?!” Yifan asks again when he doesn’t get an answer, only that this time his voice is raised to a shout, voice cracking slightly at the volume.

He draws one hand away from Yixing’s shoulder to grip the brunette’s arm instead, pulling it away from the younger’s body to expose the birthmark. It’s almost as if he knows exactly what Yixing did, without needing the other to answer, but his eyes still widen by a fraction and he gasps in shock when he catches sight of the dark symbol on Yixing’s skin.

What once was a complete unicorn shape is now barely more than a horse head with a broken stump on its forehead instead of a complete horn, and almost invisible cracking lines run through what’s supposed to represent the mane.

“What the heck were you thinking Yixing?” he shouts as his eyes lock with the younger’s again. Yifan looks downright outraged, like a wounded tiger which has been backed into a corner and doesn’t know any other way but attack. His question seems to have been a rhetorical one either way because he continues before Yixing has the chance to answer. “Have you lost your mind? That was so reckless! There are a million things that could have gone wrong. Heck, perhaps they did go wrong!”

Yixing simply stays silent throughout Yifan’s shouting. He sits the blond’s fit of anger out since he knows that Yifan needs this right now—to just let all his feeling out. The other is almost like a broken record, repeating the same phrases over and over again of how reckless Yixing has been, and that he must have gone insane to attempt something like this.

It is almost weird how much it reassures to see Yifan like this, for multiple reasons. For a few weeks it’s been difficult now to get any sort of strong emotional reaction from him. Even though Yixing has seen him happy in the last months, including the last weeks, there always was something to hold him back, something to dampen that emotion. Anger as bright and intense as Yifan is displaying it right then is such a welcome change to the apathetic state Yifan has been wallowing in for the last weeks, and Yixing accepts it with open arms. _Perhaps what I managed to do was enough after all_.

Most importantly though the other’s state provides Yixing with a distraction, all of his focus solely on Yifan. He observes how the tall hands on his own shoulders are shaking from the tension in Yifan’s muscles, watches every little flicker of emotion that rushes through these grey eyes that have an intensity that could have kept Yixing in place all on its own, without the need of physical contact.

By observing all these small details he can stop his mind from paying too much attention to himself, to how his arm still burns or worse, examining the cracks in his power. He feels them, even when he doesn’t focus on them. The cracks are at the edge of his consciousness, just barely out of reach but a constant itch nonetheless.

Now he understands what Yifan means with the void, with the sensation of reaching out for something but only ever grasping air, and yet trying over and over again. Where he has only cracks, Yifan had a full hole, and if Yixing would allow himself to think about it he’s pretty sure he would feel sick to the stomach from the idea of what Yifan had to endure.

But all of these thoughts, sensations, are pushed away, safely concealed behind the more pressing matters of attending to Yifan.

With Yixing just watching him attentively, Yifan eventually calms down. His anger burned bright, but that means that it also burnt out quickly, leaving behind only the worry that was the reason why Yifan raised his voice in the first place. After taking a few shallow breaths, Yifan fixes deploring eyes on Yixing. The younger can see how troubled Yifan is, all the confusion and incomprehension, together with a dash of incredulity and disbelief. When he opens his mouth this time, it’s only a single word that falls from his lips, in a much quieter tone.

“Why?” His voice almost sounds broken.

“Because you weren’t fine,” Yixing simply replies, keeping his face forcefully straight, and it seems as if that’s all that’s needed to break down Yifan’s last wall. He stills completely for a second, looking utterly lost.

“You weren’t fine, Yifan,” Yixing reiterates, perhaps more to himself than to Yifan. “And I couldn’t just sit still and watch it.”

The elder’s face goes strangely blank, as if his brain can’t decide which emotion to display because there are too many. “Do you know the consequences?”

Yixing simply nods, even though he doesn’t know the whole consequences if he’s being honest. He hasn’t found out yet how much his healing really affected himself. “A part of my power for a part of yours.”

Worded like this, it sounds like a perfectly fair exchange to Yixing, but Yifan doesn’t seem to think the same. “But then why? Why did you do it if you knew of the price?”

This time it’s the smaller’s turn to look at Yifan in incomprehension, because this much should be obvious, shouldn’t it? “Because that’s what you do in love, right?” he replies honestly, before pulling his lips into a small smile. “You give parts of yourself to make someone else whole.”

Yifan stills again at the words, and Yixing wonders what exactly it was he said this time, but then it comes crashing down on him. He had spoken of love all naturally, without giving it any second thought, and it only registers then that they’ve never used that word yet. He is sure that they both already knew that that’s what it is between them, have known it for a while, but neither voiced it.

Until now.

It seems to be too much for Yifan. Everything—the shock, the surprise, the joy, the worry—and just so much more, all crashing together. Yixing can tell from the way the elder’s face contorts, and then suddenly Yixing is being pulled forward, head crashing against his boyfriend’s broad chest. He can feel arms winding around his shoulders, holding him tight. The smaller’s hands automatically move around Yifan’s waist to return the hug.

The chest he’s leaning against is shaking, and it’s the first indication he gets before he hears the sobs, controlled and bitten back at first, as if Yifan is trying to suppress them, but eventually he gives up trying to conceal it. “You’re stupid. You’re stupid,” he grates out in between sobs. “Stupid stupid stupid.” And he keeps on muttering the same word, over and over again, as he holds tight onto Yixing, sobbing silently.

Hearing Yifan cry obviously breaks his heart a little—it always does, and he is sure that it always will—but Yixing knows that the elder isn’t crying because he’s in pain, or because he’s desperate, but because a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. The brunette can feel it even like this, pressed against the elder, how the tension has faded from his muscles.

Yixing wants to laugh at their position because Yifan is holding him like the younger’s the one in need of comfort while it’s the blond himself who is crying. He wants to laugh at _the whole situation_ , but the sound comes out as something that is caught between a laugh and a sob. It’s hard to tell the difference between laughing and crying at times, and right then Yixing feels like doing both at the same time either way.

He is relieved beyond relief, and despite everything that he might still have to face from now on, confessing to Junmyeon and Luhan and all his friends what he did, facing the cracks in his power, and having to find out how they affect him on the long run, in that moment he doesn’t care about these things the least. All he cares about is that he can bury his face into Yifan’s chest, can cling tightly to the elder, bunch the fabric of his shirt in his hands and feel the warmth the other is emanating.

They just stay like this, holding each other while Yifan’s mumbling of calling Yixing stupid grows more and more silent, until he’s only crying quietly.

“How does it feel?” the younger eventually asks when they’ve both calmed down, albeit still caught in a hug. He runs his hand along Yifan’s back, right over the spot where the birthmark is located, to indicate what he’s talking about.

In response, Yifan tightens his hold around the smaller’s shoulders, making a sound that sounds like a cross between a laugh and a sob. “Like you,” he confesses, sounding amazed. “It feels like you.”

Yixing replies with his own incredulous half-sob-half-laugh, but overall there’s a feeling of giddiness settling in the pit of his stomach at the idea that he _did it_. He managed to transfer a part of his powers to Yifan. He literally gave a part of himself to the elder to fill the void, and it _worked_.

“It’s different,” Yifan continues, elaborating. “It doesn’t feel whole, but now there is something there at least. If I reach out, I can touch something, even if it’s fleeting, but I don’t end up with emptiness.” His voice weak and scratchy from his crying, but he also sounds as if he finally allows himself to feel the wonderment and relief instead of only anger and worry.

“That’s good,” Yixing replies, and nuzzles his nose against Yifan’s collarbone in an affectionate gesture to show his approval. Now that the first brunt of emotions has burned out, he can feel a bone-deep exhaustion settle in, and frankly Yifan’s chest is always his favourite place to sleep.

He doesn’t really notice when the exhaustion claims him, too quick and powerful for him to fight it, but even in his half-asleep state, he does notice how Yifan shifts to lie the both of them down, keeping Yixing on his chest the whole time. Just before his consciousness fades, he feels the elders press a soft kiss to his hair, right above his ear.

“I love you,” Yifan whispers, as if he realized right then that he still hadn’t responded to Yixing’s confession. The younger falls asleep with warmth rushing through him, the pain in his arm all but forgotten.

 

\---

 

As Yixing expected he hasn’t managed to heal Yifan’s powers completely, but that never was his goal to begin with. If there had been a way to restore Yifan’s powers to the way there were before, obviously the younger would have done that, but he knew from the beginning that that is out of question.

The next day Yixing wakes up late, when the sun is already past its zenith and shining full-force into his bedroom. The space beside him is empty—an unusual sight because Yixing doesn’t remember a single day where Yifan woke up first.

A few seconds he simply blinks away his sleepiness, studying the ruffled sheets in confusion. Then he suddenly notices that something feels odd, but not on the outside, not more than him waking up alone is uncommon—no, it’s on the inside, something that is off and that seems to draw his attention towards it like a constant pull of gravity.

It’s then that everything that happened the night before comes crashing back down on him. Healing Yifan, the pain in his arm, the cracks all over his birthmark and his power.

 _Healing Yifan_.

Yixing is up and out of bed so quickly that he feels slightly dizzy when his feet collide with the floor and he sways a little as his sense of balance is too slow to catch up, but he doesn’t care.

He’s incredibly grateful for the small size of his flat because this way it doesn’t take him long at all to find Yifan. Then again, the smell of food would have probably alerted him to the elder’s position in a bigger sized flat as well.

The sight if Yifan running around shirtless in his kitchen, tending to pots and pans, makes Yixing stop dead in his tracks in the doorway. It’s not as if he hasn’t seen his boyfriend shirtless before—of course he has—or that the other’s well-built frame immediately lets his thoughts wander south—okay, perhaps it does a bit, but Yifan simply has a _very_ nice back—no, it’s rather that Yifan has never before run around shirtless in the flat, at least not while Yixing was around.

The elder even usually sleeps with a shirt on, in order to cover up the scarred and broken birthmark on his bed, not wanting it to be a constant reminder for the younger (and perhaps to himself).

“Where’s your shirt?” Yixing can’t believe his own ears when he hears the sentence fall from his mouth, because _honestly_ , there are _so many_ more important questions at the moment, but his brain simply doesn’t catch up quickly enough.

Yifan spins from the stove to look at Yixing, and the younger’s heart misses a beat at the brilliant, overjoyed smile the other casts him. Within seconds the taller has crossed the room, and is smashing his lips against Yixing’s in a kiss. A bit overwhelmed by the fervor of the other Yixing stumbles, but one of Yifan’s hands is immediately at his waist to hold him steady while the other cups the younger’s cheek.

Despite the surprise, Yixing finds himself instinctively kissing back, and his heartbeat elevates when he hears the elder whisper “I love you”’s between the presses of their mouths.

When the elder eventually pulls back he’s still grinning, and Yixing smiles back automatically. With the over-sized shirt he wears to sleep and no pants, hair disheveled to equal parts by Yifan’s hands and the bed, he wonders how out of it and confused he must look, but Yifan doesn’t seem to care at all.

“Well, that’s quite the good morning greeting,” the younger eventually pipes up, making his boyfriend chuckle.

“Just for you,” Yifan claims, before a spark of excitement flickers through his eyes. “I have to show you something! Put your arms around my neck.”

Yixing does as he’s instructed, and when he feels Yifan’s hands at his thighs, lifting him up, he chuckles slightly when he wraps them around the elder’s waist. “What, are you trying to get me to have kitchen sex with you?”

“That sounds very tempting as well,” the elder acknowledges with sparkling eyes and the hint of a smirk on his lips. “Perhaps we can save that idea for later.” Then his grin fades away a little, leaving only a gentle smile behind that almost looks subdued in comparison to the bright happiness of before, but it’s a soft expression, and it makes Yixing feel warm all over to have it directed at him.

“Hold on tight,” the other warns, and Yixing is about to question what exactly the other is planning, when suddenly he feels them rise up.

His eyes widen, and his mouth drops open as he looks at Yifan, shock, surprised and overwhelming happiness all together. “You can fly!” he breathes out, looking down to see Yifan’s feet hovering over the ground a little.

“I can,” Yifan replies, and his lips turn into a grin again. “All because of you.”

This time it’s Yixing leaning in to kiss the taller because he doesn’t know how else to express his feelings. And that’s how they stay for a bit, hovering barely a feet over the ground, kissing, until Yifan eventually—reluctantly—lowers them back to the ground to tend to their food.

“Well, technically it’s only hovering I can do,” the elder explains when they’re sitting at the table eating late breakfast, or early lunch, or perhaps even late lunch—Yixing still has no idea what time it is, but he also doesn’t care. “It takes a lot of effort to lift that far, and then it’s as if I encounter some invisible barrier and can’t go higher. But I can lift off the ground again, and that feeling is enough.”

Yixing feels as if the other might have added that last sentence to assure him, to make sure that the younger doesn’t think his effort was in vain, but there wasn’t any need—it only took Yixing one look to see the elation in Yifan’s eyes and know that he has succeeded, and that was more than enough.

 

\---

 

It’s not all good.

The overzealous joy Yifan displays is limited to the first few days when the hovering is still new, then it cools down. He’s not healed after all, only patched. The elder still has bad days, days when he doesn’t want to go outside because it’s too taxing, or when the remains of the void draw so many of his powers that he barely talks or doesn’t have any strength left to display many emotions. But those days are few and far in between, and all the other time Yifan is able to lead a mostly normal life. He goes outside by himself, does grocery shopping and picks Yixing up from work, sometimes with a small sheen of sweat on his forehead but with a smile on his lips.

Yixing, on the other hand, has to discover the sacrifice he made, and what it means to have these cracks in his power. He has to face the consequences on the first day he’s back at the hospital, directly after having told Junmyeon all about what he did—earning him a scolding similar to the one Yifan gave him, including everything from being called “reckless” to being called “stupid” and the whole ending it with a hug thing; there only is a lot less crying involved, and no shouting.

His boss is reluctant to let Yixing get back to work, asking him at least ten times whether he’s certain he wants to do that, or whether he shouldn’t rather take a few more days off. But Yixing simply points his thumb towards where Yifan is leaning in the door frame. “It’s okay, he’s been worrying about the exact same things so he insisted on coming along. If anything goes wrong, he’ll stop me.”

A glance is exchanged between the two of them, until they both nod as if their non-verbal conversation has led to a satisfactory conclusion. Yixing rolls his eyes at all the overprotective people he’s surrounded with, but he can’t deny that he’s happy to have Yifan’s reassuring presence at his side when he enters the room where he’s usually seeing his patients.

There is a slightly queasy feeling of insecurity settled in the pit of his stomach, but he ignores it as well as he can.

His first case is nothing out of the extraordinary, a woman who broke her feet when she fell of a ladder, and Yixing sets to work the way he usually does. Gathering the power takes a bit more effort than it usually does, but the real effect of the cracks doesn’t show until Yixing guides his power to the woman’s foot. He knows that the mending means pain for his patients, and he always prepares them for it.

What he isn’t prepared for however is that a sudden, sharp pain shoots up his arm, reminiscent of the sensation he felt when he healed Yifan. He is taken off-guard by the pain, so his breath hitches in what almost sounds like a sob and a loud, pained groan escapes him as he stumbles back.

Yifan is at his side within a second, rubbing his upper arms in a comforting gesture, worry etched on his features. “I’m fine,” the younger grates out, but Yifan doesn’t look as if the words are pretty believable.

When Yixing turns to continue the healing—after calming down the slightly scared looking woman—Yifan protests a little, but the younger silences him quickly with a firm glance. The pain resurfaces as soon as he resumes his healing, but this time he’s prepared. He grinds his teeth together, and forcefully controls his breathing. Yifan presses close to him nonetheless, rubbing soothing circles into his shoulder blades. Strangely, Yifan’s presence helps, dulling down the pain a little, as if Yixing’s power from within the elder is flowing through the touches a little.

It turns out to not be a one-time thing, the pain, and it’s not something that goes away over time. Yixing has never had an idea about how his powers really work, but it seems as if there was a part in them that kept him from feeling the pain his patients were feeling while he was connected to them through healing. That part is gone now, or broken, or transferred to Yifan, he doesn’t know. But it doesn’t stop himself from continuing his healing. It might be painful, and more exhausting now, but on days when he feels weaker, he takes Yifan with him and then everything is a bit easier.

It’s not that everything’s good. It’s not that it’s _perfect_.

Except that, somehow, it is.

 

\---

 

One night they lie under the open sky, watching the stars. They’ve come up to one of the hills surrounding the hospital, Yifan having packed a picnic basket and a blanket for them to be able to lie down on the grass. It’s been a year since they first met, and Yifan insisted that even though this isn’t their proper anniversary—which Yixing was sure the other would prepare something extraordinarily cheesy for—they’d still have to do something special.

It’s a warm night for late spring, and coming from the cold of the winter Yixing is perfectly comfortable in a simple T-shirt. He had teased his boyfriend about whether the other would come all dressed up again, but that had just earned him a—pretty immature, in his opinion—poked out tongue in his direction.

Their food has long since been consumed, and now Yixing’s lying half on top of Yifan’s chest, his head resting against the elder’s collarbones as they both face up. Yifan has his arms wound around the younger’s waist, with Yixing placing his own hands above his boyfriend’s taller ones. No noises can be heard except for the wind that’s gently ruffling the treetops, and the first insects that are starting to emerge from their hibernation.

Lifting his right arm up as if to reach for the stars, Yixing can’t help but take note of the broken birthmark on his skin. “Aren’t we so cliché?” he wonders with a small chuckle. “I can’t be whole without you anymore because I gave you a part of my power. We’re irrevocably linked now.”

Yifan hums non-committally, and sounds as if he’s close to slipping off into the land of dreams, too relaxed to keep his eyes open for too long. “Well, as long as being clichéd means I get my fairytale ending, I don’t mind,” the elder mumbles, and Yixing can basically hear the teasing smile in his voice.

He laughs in response and swats gently at the other’s hands that are within his reach because that’s what he always does when the other is being too cheesy. “What? I got my prince, and he’s got no choice but to stay with me because he gave me a part of his soul or whatever our powers are. I think that’s pretty much a fairytale ending, if I do say so myself,” Yifan argues, a bit more awake now as he nudges the smaller playfully.

Yixing loves the sight of the stars, but he loves the sight of the stars being reflected in Yifan’s eyes even more, so he turns around on the other’s chest to be able to face him. “Whatever you say,” he whispers, leaning in for a kiss, and feeling the elder’s arms tighten around his waist as he kisses back.

It’s not a fairytale ending they have. There is no “and now all problems are resolved at once” charm for them. They still have to go through days that are harder, and live with the repercussions of their cracked powers.

But at least they’re in it together.

Nothing in life comes without a price—Yixing had reasoned this a long time ago. In order for Yifan to be a bit less broken, Yixing had to break himself a little.

And with Yifan’s warm chest beneath him, the elder’s long arms draped loosely around Yixing’s waist and the vast night sky above them, Yixing thinks that it’s a price that he’d be willing to pay a thousand times over.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, congratulations if you made it this far. Reading 45k of what I wrote; I'm really impressed. It honestly still feels surreal to think that I wrote more than 45k, when I wasn't even intending this to be a long fic when I first came up with the plot. I was ridiculously worried that it would end up being all disjointed and unreasonably detailed, but my beta readers and my friends assured me that it turned out good. I hope they haven't lied to me x'D  
> Thank you a lot, again, to every one of my friends who encouraged me, and to every single one of you who read this and made the effort I put into this fic not be in vain.  
> This fic got and still gets me all emotional, so I just have to tell you that I love you all ♥♥♥♥


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